A Meeting of Fates
by JamesLuver
Summary: Anna is a maid travelling with the Earl of Grantham and his family to Cincinnati. John is seeking a new life in America. The two meet by chance aboard the Titanic and sparks begin to fly, but when the ship hits the ice, their lives are turned upside down.
1. The Winds of Change

**A/N:** Oh dear, I really should stop making more work for myself. But I just couldn't resist this.

First of all, there are probably going to be some horribly glaring errors within the course of this 'fic. I've tried to research the _Titanic_, but it's proven quite difficult. Forgive any mistakes that are made, point them out, whatever. I can try and amend them as far as possible if something is truly awful. :) Anyway, on with the first chapter.

**Disclaimer:** Neither _Downton Abbey_ nor any references to the _Titanic_ are mine. Le sigh.

* * *

_A Meeting of Fates_

_1. The Winds of Change_

_Wednesday 10__th__ April, 1912, 11:00_

The hustle and bustle of the Southampton port was the first thing that struck Anna Smith as she peered out of the window of the motor at the vast crowds that had gathered to see the RMS _Titanic_ set off on her maiden voyage; it seemed as though thousands of men, women and children had flooded from the streets to be a part of the momentous occasion. Getting through the sea of people would be nigh impossible.

"Ah, bloody hell," Thomas grumbled from beside her, apparently drawing the same conclusion. "This is ridiculous."

"Bet his lordship hasn't had any problems getting to the ship," added Sarah O'Brien, mouth twisting distastefully as the motor slowed to a crawl in order to inch its way slowly through crowd towards the far end of the pier where the first class passengers would board the _Titanic_.

Anna remained quiet, choosing to ignore the other two servants' complaining. If she could have chosen her own companions for the trip to Cincinnati, Thomas and O'Brien would have been last on her list. As it was, however, O'Brien was Lady Grantham's lady's maid and Thomas was currently acting as Lord Grantham's valet whilst a suitable replacement was found. The crossing could not have been made without them, and Anna wasn't foolish enough to open her mouth about it. In any case, she was hopeful that she wouldn't have to spend much time with either of them. She needed to be on hand to assist Lady Mary Crawley, his lordship's eldest daughter, but the rest of her time was hopefully going to be her own, and she planned to use it exploring every inch of the ship that she could. This was an opportunity that would never present itself again.

At last the car came to a complete stop, and the three servants cautiously clambered outside. The _Titanic_ was almost in front of them now, and Anna couldn't help but gasp at her impressiveness. She had never seen something as wonderful as this in her whole life. Even Thomas and O'Brien were quiet as they gazed upon the sight, obviously unable to think of a scathing remark. The noise pressed in around them as passengers of the ship pushed forward to board. Children darted in between bodies as they giggled in excitement, deaf to their parents' calls. Their driver handed them their valises and tipped his hat to them.

"Have a good trip," he told them.

O'Brien's lips twisted bitterly. "That's not likely, not with the way her majesty will be ordering me around the whole time."

"You exaggerate," Anna cut in absently, still examining the sight in front of her.

"Well, I don't know what you've got to be happy about. Lady Mary is as bad as her ladyship, and you'll be run ragged this whole time. You won't get to enjoy any of the trip."

Anna shrugged, not seeing the point in arguing. Whatever O'Brien said, she was determined to enjoy herself.

"I can see his lordship," Thomas informed them, scanning the crowds. "Looks like they're waiting for us."

"Of course they would be," O'Brien grumbled, following the pair over to their family.

Lord Grantham greeted them warmly. His wife stood beside him looking equally pleased, but their daughter was silent and sullen, looking as though she'd rather be anywhere in the world but standing here waiting to board the ship. Mr. Crawley and Mr. Patrick, his lordship's cousins, looked a little uncomfortable standing so close to the formidable young woman. Thomas moved forward to help get the cases that the Granthams' driver was patiently waiting with, and soon the party was moving towards the grand boat. Anna was in awe of her, up so close. It was splendid. Gwen would surely be jealous of her tales when she returned.

The family began to make its way towards the boarding line, with the servants following dutifully behind them. Mr. Patrick offered Lady Mary his arm, but she shot him such a withering look that he dropped it at once, looking like a chastised puppy. Once on board, a member of the crew stepped forward, offering to show them to their quarters. Lord Grantham accepted graciously, handing the tickets over, and they continued further into the ship. Anna's eyes were wide as she tried to take in all the sights she possibly could. The rich wood panels running the course of the walls. The exquisite paintings made by some breath-taking talent. The soft carpets muffling their footsteps. The whole thing was gorgeous beyond words.

Soon the group arrived at the Granthams' quarters, and Anna immediately set about unpacking for Lady Mary, whose room was almost as beautiful as the one she had back at Downton Abbey. The young woman had followed her into the room and was currently sitting in a chair by her vanity, scowling morosely at her reflection in the mirror.

"Is something the matter, milady?" Anna asked her as she finished putting the other woman's evening gowns in the mahogany wardrobe. "You seem a little preoccupied."

Lady Mary was silent for a few moments, before sighing. "I just don't want to be here is all, Anna."

"Why not?" the maid took the chance in asking.

Lady Mary sighed again. "Because I know what this visit's about. It's about making the engagement official."

"Milady?"

"Mama and Papa want to be able to invite Grandmama over for the wedding whilst they're visiting her. And it just reminds me of what the future holds for me."

Anna remained silent, not knowing what to say. In any case, she reminded herself, it was not her place to have an opinion on such a matter. Thankfully, the conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Thomas poked his head into the room.

"Beg pardon, milady, but one of the crew members is here to escort us to our quarters, if it's agreeable with you."

"Yes, yes," Mary waved her hand in way of dismissal, busying herself with placing her jewellery in the pots provided on the vanity table.

Anna dipped her head. "I'll see you later to change, milady."

Mary shook her head. "No one changes on the first night, Anna. I'll see you before I retire for the night."

Anna nodded again. "Very good, milady." With that, she withdrew from the room and followed Thomas to where the steward and O'Brien were waiting impatiently.

"'Bout time," O'Brien grumbled. Anna ignored her. The group made its way through the ship to where the servants' quarters were. The steward showed them the servants' common room (a plain room filled with places to sit that looked agreeable enough) and then proceeded to show them the servants' hall where their meals would be eaten every day and then the bedrooms. They were small and windowless, but they were cosy nevertheless, and certainly not much worse than the lodgings that Anna was used to at Downton. They were told that they would be sharing. At once Anna's heart sank. It wasn't the thought of sharing. She enjoyed sharing rooms with Gwen very much at Downton, where the two of them would discuss their dreams, giggling childishly over someone who might have casually caught their eye and discussing the goings on of the day. Anna felt safe with Gwen, the way an older sister did around a younger one. But sharing a room with O'Brien was something that Anna had hoped to avoid at all costs. The sour lady's maid would surely put a damper on any high spirits that she might have had. It was bad enough that she'd have to see her every day, never mind sharing the night with her as well.

Already the older woman was wrinkling her nose as she placed her valise on one of the beds. Obviously she felt the same way about sharing with the younger maid. There were two cupboards of storage, and Anna at once set about putting her things away with a heavy heart.

"I'll see you later," Thomas said to O'Brien as he was led away in search of his own cabin. She nodded briskly in reply, beginning to unpack her own cases.

Both worked in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Anna folded her working clothes neatly, then placed her best Sunday dress on top of them.

"Don't know what you bothered bringing that for," O'Brien sniffed at her, banging her own cupboard door shut. "You won't have the time to wear it. We're not on holiday."

"I don't see why I can't when my duties are done," she replied lightly. "I'd like to take the time to explore in the evening, and I don't think his lordship will mind if I do that as long as I don't have any jobs to do for Lady Mary."

O'Brien rolled her eyes, but didn't bother answering. Anna was thankful for that.

From somewhere above, came the sound of a horn being blown. Both women looked up at the noise. And then, suddenly, came the definite feel of movement beneath their feet. Anna grabbed at the end of her bed to keep her balance. It was a little off-putting, as though she was rocking almost unperceptively from side to side. She hoped fervently that she'd grow accustomed to the sensation before long. She wasn't quite sure that she liked it.

But there was no denying the feeling of excitement that welled up inside her as the ship slowly began to move away from its Southampton mooring. She was heading for adventure, for the unknown, for a bit of excitement in America. It didn't matter that the trip was only going to last a few weeks. It didn't matter that she'd be working every one of those days, making Lady Mary look beautiful for the balls she was going to be attending on the arm of Patrick Crawley. She could feel it in her bones. Change was upon her.

_When the winds begins to blow,_ her mother had said wisely one day as they'd stood together outside their home, watching her father and brothers working in the field, _you'd best listen to them, little Anna._

She was certain that the winds of change would be blowing now if she clambered up onto the deck to watch the ship depart. And she was determined not to let them go to waste.

* * *

John Bates gripped the handle of his cane more tightly as he slowly made his way through the crowds towards the ship that would take him away from England for good. He licked his lips nervously, feeling the sweat beading at his temple under his hat and wondered, not for the first time, if he was making the right decision by leaving the country. His mother thought that he was (and really, she was the only one whose opinion mattered to him anymore), but even that reassurance couldn't stop the seeds of fear from sowing themselves in his mind. He knew people in England. In America, he would be truly alone.

He could almost hear his mother's voice in his head, chiding him in that no-nonsense manner that befitted her Irish spirit: _yes, you know people here, John, but they're the wrong sort of people to be knowin'._

The ship was an absolutely beautiful sight. He had never seen anything like it in his entire life, and he had seen many wonders during his time. Many horrors, too, but he tried not to think about those too often. All around him people were cheering and waving and shrieking, clearly enjoying the excitement of the _Titanic_'s maiden voyage. Families shepherded their children towards the third class entrances, passes clutched like a lifeline in their hands. For some, they probably were.

It had been his mother's idea to purchase the ticket for the _Titanic_. In fact, she had taken it upon herself to scrape the money together and buy it for him herself, and she had presented it to him on his last visit to her.

"It's time to turn your life around, Johnny," she'd said to him, and he'd known that she had been terribly, terribly serious; she only ever called him Johnny when she wanted him to listen. "You've been out of prison long enough to know that Vera isn't gonna be comin' back to yer. If she wanted you to find her, she'd have revealed herself by now. What you need is a fresh start away from the memories, away from the drink."

"I haven't touched a drop since I came out," he'd protested, but she'd waved it away.

"You haven't touched a drop _yet_," she'd said. "But I know you, John. One bad day and you'll turn back to the bottle. I don't want that for you. I want you to be happy. And that's why I've got you something."

She'd presented him with the ticket then, and he'd taken it. She'd filled his head with promises of better prospects in the new world, of a life free from looking over his shoulder every day expecting Vera to be there, of a place where it would be easier to cope without the drink, of a life where he'd just be one more face in the crowd, where he'd never be asked about his past and he'd never have to give any answers.

And now here he was, waiting to take that first step into a new life.

And he was terrified. Terrified of knowing that his mother wouldn't be there as a supporting block if everything went wrong, terrified of things not being _any_ different in America despite his mother's faith in him.

He did his best to navigate around the boisterous children, the sound of his cane seeming to reverberate in his skull, an extension of his shame that everyone could see.

God, he could use a drink.

The thought sprang unbidden to mind, and he stopped short. Was it ever going to get any easier for him? He'd been off the drink since the start of his prison sentence, when he'd been forced to go without. He'd thought he would die without it at the time and it had taken weeks for the shakes to abate once the stuff had worked its way out of his system. He'd been careful to keep out of the pubs upon his release, but the niggling feeling that he was free to go out and have a pint constantly plagued his mind and set him on edge. In prison, he'd _had_ to go without it. Now, he was doing it by choice. But that choice could change at any moment.

The thought of drinking once again made his mind up for him.

He couldn't be trusted in England. Perhaps his mother was right; perhaps it would be different in America. Perhaps he'd be so engrossed with making a new life for himself that he would forget all about the need to drink. And without Vera being there to tempt him off the path of the straight and narrow, perhaps he could finally make a respectable man of himself. A future where no questions were asked. It sounded nice.

He clutched his travelling case tighter and began to limp up towards the boarding line. The steward scrutinised his ticket suspiciously as he handed it over, then jerked his head in what John assumed was admission. He garnered a lot of strange looks with his limp and his cane, but he tried to ignore them as he made his way through third class in search of his cabin. He ran across a steward as he wondered the deck, and the young man offered to show him to his quarters. Gratefully, John followed him, glancing around at the unremarkable interior of third class as he went. The young steward seemed quite chatty, and happily pointed out the main areas of interest as he went. John was grateful to hear the location of the smoking room. Having given up drink for good, he'd come to rely more heavily on his other dirty habit of smoking. His mother hadn't been too keen on that one, either – it smelled absolutely terrible, she'd always complained – but she'd conceded that it didn't make him lose his head, so that had to be a bonus.

The steward led him down a flight of stairs into a cold corridor. Taking the ticket from him, he proceeded to the end of the corridor and rapped cheerfully on a door.

"This'd be yours," he said. "Enjoy the trip."

"I'm sure I will. Thank you," John replied evenly as the steward left him to it. Opening the door, he was greeted by a room that was worse than the cell he'd had in prison. Three bunkers filled the space from floor to ceiling. There seemed to be no storage space at all.

John sighed and slumped down on one of the bottom bunks, head in his hands. If this was going to be his living space for the next week, then it was going to be a very long trip to America. Deciding that he couldn't spend any longer in the room than he had to, he stashed his valise under the bunk as best he could and exited the room again. He would go up top, remind himself of what the smoggy air of England felt like for the last time. From the way that people were madly dashing around, he discerned that they had to be leaving soon. His breath caught in his throat. A life away from England, away from everything that he knew. It was a frightening prospect.

Back up on deck, he leaned against the railing and looked out at the sight before him. The crowd that had come to see the _Titanic_ off on her maiden voyage had swelled. Flags were swayed frantically, people were cheering and waving at their loved ones as they waited for their journeys to America to begin. John wondered how many of them wouldn't be returning to England. A gentle breeze blew against his face, and he turned his face upwards to gaze at the cloudy sky. It felt good against his skin, and he tugged at his collar.

_Everything's going to change,_ he thought incoherently. _I can feel it._

And then the horn blew, signalling the start of his journey into the unknown. The cries from the crowd reached a crescendo as the ship slowly began to pull away from the port. All around him people waved wildly at the friends and family that they were leaving behind. John was content to watch. He had no one to wave to. His mother was safely in London. He had promised to write to her as soon as he was settled down, and she had made him promise to come and visit her once he had his life fully back on track again and had the means to do so, but until that moment he now stood alone.

He was nervous, apprehensive, a little worried, but he was in no doubt that everything was going to change from this point onwards.

The wind told him so.

* * *

**A/N:** I think it's quite obvious where the details are sadly lacking, but hopefully it wasn't so bad.

Anna and Bates will be meeting in the next chapter, so stay tuned. Because of the stupid amount of schoolwork I've got on at the moment and the fact that my mum has been taken unexpectedly ill, I'm aiming for one a month until the workload lessens a bit.


	2. A Meeting of Fates

**A/N:** It's actually insane how difficult I found writing this chapter. And I think it shows. I've written it and re-written it so many times that I know if I don't put something out there it's likely that I never will. I don't think the fact that I've had absolutely no willpower to do anything remotely creative over the last couple of weeks has helped anything much, either. The Anna/Bates meeting scene is literally one of the hardest things that I've ever had to write.

With thanks to** robspace54**, who pointed out my error in the last chapter.

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

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_2. A Meeting of Fates_

_Wednesday 10__th__ April, 1912, 20:15_

Anna adjusted her hat one more time in the tiny looking glass hanging over one of the chests of drawers and finally decided that it would do. She felt nervous – her palms were sweaty in her thin black gloves – but she told herself to stop being silly. She had asked Lady Mary earlier if she had anything that she wanted to be done whilst she was dining, but the young woman had said no, that she wasn't required to do anything until ten o'clock, when she'd be retiring for bed after an exhausting first day. So that gave Anna a couple of hours to begin her exploration of the ship. She'd decided to forego dinner in favour of giving herself more time, and it had also made her feel more at ease knowing that O'Brien was in the servants' common room and not harshly scrutinising her every move, making biting comments about how ridiculous she was being. No doubt that she and Thomas would enjoy their evening bad-mouthing her to each other, but she didn't really care what the two disapproving servants really thought.

She'd give herself just an hour today, she decided. That would leave her plenty of time to get back to her cabin and into her uniform again before Lady Mary needed her. She was ridiculously excited about the prospect of having an evening to herself to familiarise herself with the surroundings that would serve as her home for the next week. Leaving the cabin, she began to walk in what she hoped was the general direction of the deck, smiling at the stewards who raced past her performing their duties. She felt relaxed, free, freer than she had felt in years due to the relaxation of the rigid confines that she was used to living within. If this was what the _Titanic_ was going to do for her, then she was going to enjoy the trip to America very much indeed.

* * *

_21:45_

John sat in a corner in the smoking room, exhaling a cloud of smoke slowly, deep in thought.

He'd met up with the other men who would be sharing the cabin with him earlier. All seemed nice men, all intent on making something of themselves in the new world, open with the reasons as to why they were leaving their queen and country behind. Two of them had just lost their jobs and had heard that their type of work was eagerly sought in America. Another had recently lost his wife and had decided that the only way that he would ever move on was to migrate to a drastically different place. Still two more were young and had the certainty that they would succeed in life that only the arrogance of youth could. They were all curious about him, wanting to know his story, too; about how he'd attained his limp and his reasons for leaving England behind, but he'd politely evaded answering by stating that England had nothing to offer him anymore. He didn't want to dwell on the past any more than he had to now that he'd left it behind.

The men had asked him to join their little party, stating that they were going out to find some good whiskey, and the desire to join them had been almost insurmountable.

He'd declined. If he started drinking now, there would be no hope for him.

He'd needed a cigarette, though, and had made his way down to the smoking room a little after them, avoiding the bar and huddling in a corner of the darkened room away from the rest of the men who were cheerily tossing the ale down their throats over a game of cards. His cigarette burned like a lifeline between his fingers, the smell of the smoke soothing his soul. He stared sightlessly ahead, lost in the dancing pattern of the smoke. Even now, when they'd left Southampton hours ago, he was still having doubts about what he was doing. He knew it was the right course of action to take. He knew it would be good for him. But that couldn't stop the worry, the misgivings. Would he ever be rid of this uncertainty that plagued his soul?

His mother was a kind woman. She'd always been strict but fair during his childhood, and had been at a loss when he'd fallen on the wrong side of life, blaming herself for his failings. His move to America was not just about him finding happiness and prosperity. So much of it was also about redemption for his mother, to finally put her mind at ease, to reassure herself that she hadn't failed him all those years ago. To John, there was no one to blame but himself for the horrible mess he had made of his life. For any mother, especially one with just the one boy, there would always be self-blame for the way that his life had turned out. If there was one thing that John wanted to achieve from his move to America it was to give his mother a reason to be proud of her only son again. He couldn't imagine the shame that she must have endured over the past decade with his reputation as a drunkard and a thief whizzing around her close-knit community.

The taste of smoke had soured in his mouth. He stubbed out the cigarette. He could kill a drink. The whiskey would be sure to burn away the acrid taste.

He stood abruptly. Sweat broke out on his forehead. The change in his pocket tinkled enticingly. He had enough for one. Or two. Twenty. No, he shouldn't. He _couldn't_.

He had to get out. Fresh air was needed to clear his head, to make him see straight again.

Quickly grabbing his jacket, he pushed his chair back and headed for the exit, the casually furling smoke burning in his nostrils. Once he was outside the door he made his way towards the third class promenade, the sound of his cane marginally muffled by the noise of the other passengers around him. He could hear the sound of squealing children behind closed doors, the sound of exited laughter from the direction of the general room. John shook his head. He had no one to share his fears and hopes with. Perhaps it was better that way.

At last he made it to the deck, and he leaned against the railing with a sigh, gazing out to sea. The night was rather cold, but clear, and he tilted his head back to gaze at the stars above his head. Orion's belt was particularly bright. Shivering lightly, he pulled his jacket more firmly around him and fumbled in his pocket for his cigarettes again. Flaring one up quickly, he exhaled a cloud of smoke lethargically into the air, allowing it to calm his frayed nerves. It was easier out here, away from the temptation of drink.

A small part of him wondered where Vera was now, what she was doing. It was a dangerous thought, one that his mother would disapprove of. But John had known Vera for many years, had shared her bed and knew every undesirable – and indeed rather desirable – nook of her personality. He'd fallen out of love with her a long time ago, even before he'd been shipped out to Africa to fight the Boers, but until the incident with the silver which had sent him to prison, she'd still been the one constant in his life. He'd had a taste of what life was like without the drinking and the arguments and the hours spent rutting bitterly between the sheets of their bed, and he'd discovered that for all its difficulties, he liked it that way. Despite this, though, it was sometimes hard to break away from everything that he had once known.

_Vera ruined you,_ he told himself. _The last thing you need is her turning up again and derailing you. Mother said she was the wrong sort of woman, and she was right. Things will be different now. Better._

He'd never known stars as bright as these. Even the ones in Africa hadn't shone with as much promise as the ones over the Atlantic did.

John Bates settled himself more firmly against the icy-cold railing and brought the cigarette to his lips again.

* * *

_21:55_

_Oh God, I'm going to be late._

That was Anna's first panicked thought as she glanced down at the little pocket watch that she had slipped inside her dress.

The second was that she was completely and utterly lost.

_How can you possibly be lost on a ship?_ she scolded herself. _It's not like it's the size of America!_

And it wasn't like she had been able to wander too far. Although she had been eager to see as much as the ship as she could, she had been turned away various times from the "less savoury" (their words, not hers) ends of the ship by irate-looking stewards who told her that she was trying to force her way into second class. It wasn't the place for her, they'd told her. She was a servant, therefore she had to stay in the servants' quarters of first class.

Never one to take the rules as an absolution, Anna had not been deterred from her path. She'd already explored some of the rooms in first class earlier on in the evening, and she couldn't help but find them rather repetitive. Row after row after row of carpeted floors and pretty pictures and handsome mahogany furniture. They were nice. They'd certainly been interesting for a housemaid at first, who was only used to very plain and simple things and the familiarities of a life at Downton Abbey. But it wasn't who she was. She didn't belong here, a woman pretending to be a lady in the dress that she'd had for too many years to admit to and the hat that had been patched up too many times because new ones were too expensive.

So, when she'd grown bored of the endlessly monotonous rooms, she'd decided to find a way to slip past the overbearing stewards to the parts of the ship that would be deemed inappropriate for her.

It had been surprisingly easy, despite the attitudes of the stewards. Anna's mother had often sighed in exasperated affection over her daughter's tenacity, and she'd been determined to explore as far as she could, consequences be damned. When she'd noticed the one lone, frankly quite dim-looking steward reclining boredly against the door he was supposed to be guarding, she'd seized her opportunity and made her way over to him. He had taken one look at her, swelled up like a bullfrog and blustered at the preposterousness that someone from third class had managed to sneak into first class. She'd been ushered down the stairwell into the part of the ship that she fitted in with best.

She'd barely been able to mask her grin of triumph.

And then she'd been free to explore the place where she felt most at ease. Down in third class, children shrieked and darted about the ship, too excited to take note of their parents' half-hearted chidings. Relaxed from the iron rules that the people in first class lived by, the families were happy and pleased, all-too willing to offer her wide smiles and tips of their hats. Anna liked it down here. The relaxed atmosphere made her feel at home. She'd decided that nothing would stop her from visiting it again at some point on her journey. There were still so many places that she hadn't visited. She hadn't gathered up the courage to poke her head into the general room, for instance. And perhaps, if she felt brave enough, she'd buy herself a drink from the bar and mingle. There were bound to be people down here to pass the time of day with, who wouldn't judge her. People she belonged with more than the stuck-up servants who thought themselves better than anyone else because they heralded positions that made them superior to other members of their social class.

In fact, she'd been so caught up in her victory and exploring the new territory that she hadn't given the slightest thought as to how she would get back into first class. Not until she'd leisurely glanced at her pocket watch to realise that her free time had sped away from her like a train out of the station at London.

Which had led her to where she was now, panicking as she dashed across the third class deck in order to find some way to slip back upstairs before Lady Mary or any other member of her family noticed her absence. No doubt that O'Brien's acid tongue would be working wonders if she didn't make it back in time. She'd managed to lose her way quite spectacularly in such a short space of time and in such a small space.

_Five minutes._

She would need a miracle.

Anna dodged passed a couple who were strolling by arm-in-arm along the deck; both turned to stare in confusion at the young woman who was hurtling across the wooden boards as though her life depended on it. Her breathing was loud and laboured in her head. Her eyes were clouding over in her effort of focusing on getting back to her job before O'Brien had the opportunity to stick the knife in with her ladyship. There had to be some way out of this predicament –

She was so focused on getting back to her room that she didn't even have the time to register the next ill-placed obstacle in her path.

A harsh grunt from a solid, well-built barrier and Anna jolted to a heart-stopping halt as she pitched heavily against it, the momentum of her panicked run propelling them backward…

…She had careened straight into something decidedly human. Something decidedly _male_.

There was a clatter, and Anna panted harshly as a large hand splayed warmly against her side, preventing her from toppling over as the man found his footing and steadied the both of them. Heart pounding somewhere in the region of her throat, she slowly raised her eyes to the face of her heroic saviour, who had surely prevented her from sprawling her length along the deck and causing herself an injury that she'd be unable to explain to Lady Mary.

A soft face. Dark, kind eyes. Tall, powerful frame. Broad shoulders. Anna felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as she quickly stumbled away from the man, apologising profusely.

"I'm so sorry, sir," she said. "Please forgive me. I didn't see you there – I'm afraid I was a little caught up in my own world."

"It's quite alright," the man said. His voice was soft and held the tiniest hint of an Irish burr. Anna found herself shivering at the sound of it. Or perhaps she was simply cold. There _was_ a chilly wind blowing. "Is there anything the matter?"

"It's silly, really," she said, watching him bend down to retrieve something from the deck. Her eyes widened as she realised that it was a cane. "Oh, I'm so sorry! How terribly clumsy of me; I–"

The stranger waved it away quickly, pressing the cane heavily against his right side. "There's no need to apologise. Really." He smiled at her then. It made his eyes twinkle, and Anna relaxed. "Now, you were about to tell me what was wrong, Miss…?"

"Smith," she supplied, and her heart lurched pleasantly as he extended his hand to her. "Anna Smith."

"John Bates," he replied. His grasp was both firm and gentle, and incredibly warm despite the cold air. "If there's anything that I can help you with, I'd be more than happy to assist. At the risk of sounding presumptuous, you seemed to be in a bit of a hurry before."

"Perhaps you might be able to help," Anna said. Realising that she was still grasping his hand, she quickly let go. Mr. Bates didn't seem to mind. "I'm actually supposed to be in first class, but I appear to be lost."

"First class?" Mr. Bates looked surprise, though he quickly hid it behind an unreadable mask.

"What do you mean by that?" Anna teased, already feeling very comfortable in this man's presence. He had that air about him, as though he was someone that she could entrust anything to, a man of honour and dignity and respect.

Evidently he mistook her teasing to be offence, because he reddened, stumbling over his next sentence. "Nothing, of course – I was merely surprised that–"

"It's perfectly alright," she reassured him with a smile. "I know I don't look as fine as the other ladies in first class. Truth is, I'm a maid, and I really should be back in first class to get my lady ready for the night. They're a good family, but I'm not sure how pleased they'd be to know that I was late because I was cavorting in a part of the ship where I'm not allowed to be anyway."

"Well, I can't say I'm much of an expert on the layout of this ship yet," Mr. Bates said, looking relieved that he hadn't offended her. Anna's heart sank at his statement, then quickly rose with his next words. "But I'm sure that I can help you find your way. Although you must tell me if I slow you down; I'm afraid I'm not the fit young man that I used to be."

He indicated the cane that he was leaning heavily on, but Anna was determined not to stare. Or to judge. "I'm certain that it won't be a hindrance at all, Mr. Bates. And I would certainly be grateful for your help. Thank you."

"The entrance won't be that way," said Mr. Bates, jerking his head in the direction of a little door not far from where they were standing. "I came from in there, so I can say with a fair amount of confidence that they won't put the entrance to first class anywhere near the third class bar area."

"I imagine not," Anna agreed as they began to walk. She kept her pace slow, mindful of the oddly lumbering way that her comrade walked. Silenced reigned for a moment.

"You mentioned you were a maid," Mr. Bates said. "Is your family visiting New York? I've heard many exaggerated accounts of its unenviable vulgarity from the English people, but I'm sure it's much nicer than we care to admit."

"Oh, no," answered Anna. "Her ladyship has family in Cincinnati. The family are here to visit them. I daresay that we'll visit New York for a few days before returning to England, though."

He smiled at her. His eyes crinkled when he did that, Anna noticed. It suited him. "I myself might choose to settle there when I arrive in America."

"Settling?" She cursed herself for sounding so startled; she wasn't in first class now, she reminded herself. Of course Mr. Bates wouldn't have the luxury of simply visiting America for a few weeks.

"That's right." He smiled again, but it was tighter this time.

"That's very brave of you. I couldn't imagine leaving my entire world behind to move to a different country and start again. What reasons might you have for that?"

"I have my reasons." This time there was no mistaking the finality to his tone. He was still smiling at her, but there was an air of suspicious caution around him. The last thing that Anna wanted to do was make him feel uncomfortable. She had only been innocently curious about him, but then again, her mother had always told her that her curiosity would get her into trouble. It was best to change the subject while she still could.

"Do you suppose we're any nearer to finding the entrance?" she asked him, internally cringing at her pathetic attempt at conversation. However, it seemed to do the trick as Mr. Bates relaxed again.

"I'd like to suspect that we are. There are only so many places that you can go in third class; it's not as fancy as first class, I'm afraid. The entrance must be nearby."

They rounded a corner as he spoke, and Anna's heart leapt. A little door was ensconced at the end of the corridor. It had to lead to the place where she needed to be. And, thankfully, whoever was supposed to be looking after it was shirking their duty. That was certainly a bonus – she'd be able to slip through undetected.

"That must be it," said Mr. Bates, as though he'd read her mind. He turned to grin at her again. "There we are. We make quite an investigating team."

"We certainly do," she agreed, smiling in return and pausing for a moment in front of the door when they reached it. Glancing around warily (the door certainly wouldn't remain unmanned for long; the stewards were all cautious of the third class trying to invade the more savoury parts of the ship), she held out her hand again. "Thank you for taking the time to help."

"It was a pleasure," he replied, taking her hand. She felt her breath catch in her throat. She was sure her pulse had quickened. She wondered if he could feel it in her fingertips.

"I'd better go," she said quickly, pulling away. She could feel her blood warming her cheeks and hoped it wasn't too obvious – or at least hoped that he'd think that it was from the cool wind outside and nothing more. "At this rate both of us will be in trouble if we're caught lingering around here!"

"Of course," Mr. Bates agreed. "Take care on your way back. And you could always tell your employer the truth – that you were detained by a strange, crippled man. They needn't know just where you were held up."

She laughed, the sound loud in the quiet world which the two of them inhabited. And then she pushed open the door and stepped through.

"Goodnight, Mr. Bates," she said, suddenly feeling very shy.

"Goodnight, Miss Smith," he echoed, tipping his hat politely at her and beginning to turn away.

She watched him take a couple of those odd, awkward steps away from her, watching the way his shoulders shifted beneath his clothes, the gentle strength exuding from him despite his handicap. And suddenly she felt the inexplicable rush of desire to know more about this kind man who had taken the time to help her.

"Perhaps we'll see each other again." The words were out of her mouth before she realised what she'd called after him, and her eyes widened in shock at her audacity of voicing such thoughts. Mr. Bates turned back towards her, his own expression mirroring hers. For a moment she regretted opening her mouth. But then his face softened into a gentle smile.

"Perhaps we will," he said, then began to walk away again, the tap of his cane musical against the wooden decking. Anna watched his progress for a moment before shutting the door quietly behind her and mounting the stairs up onto the first class deck. She felt a little out of sorts. Disorientated. As though she'd been starved of oxygen for too long and the new rush of it filling her head was too much for her to take in in one go. Why was she feeling like this? What was it about the man that she had just met that made her feel like a flustered young girl? Anna wasn't quite sure. It was a new sensation, a strange one.

She was certain of one thing, however: she would love to experience it again. And she would. At any cost. She didn't need to question it. She just needed to trust it.

Tomorrow, she would seek Mr. John Bates out again.

* * *

**A/N:** Hmm, yeah. I don't think I'm ever going to be convinced with this one. Stay tuned, though, because I'm hopeful that it will begin to flow better in the coming chapters. Next time we'll see more of Bates' thoughts on the initial meeting as well as a friendship blossoming between the two...


	3. Thoughts and Plans

**A/N:** Apologies for such a delay with this chapter. It's been gathering dust for a couple of months now, but I was spurred to polish it up a bit by a guest review that I received the other day. It's not exactly wonderful and it isn't exactly what I wanted, but I'm leaving it as it is for now. After that "tear my emotions to shreds and leave my heart to bleed on the floor" episode, I just thought I'd get it out there.

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Guest** – Wow, I didn't even realise as much time as that had passed since my last update. It's been written for a couple of months, but I just kept putting off editing it because it was irritating me so much, yay. So I apologise for such a long wait. Either way, I'm glad you liked Anna and Bates' meeting, especially since I found it so tough to write. :) Thanks for reviewing and forcing me to get my backside in gear! ;)

* * *

_3. Thoughts and Plans_

_Thursday 11__th__ April, 1912, 03:50_

Sleep was not going to come.

John realised this as he lay with his head buried in his pillow, gritting his teeth and trying desperately not to breathe. Usually it was his knee that kept him awake at night. It ached terribly, a pain that made him want to scream, that made him wish that he'd been lucky enough to lose it after the bullet that had ruined it. Any of that was preferable to the things that were keeping him awake now.

He could not get the thought of Miss Anna Smith out of his mind.

Whenever he closed his eyes he could see her smiling face behind his lids, whenever he tried to find a comfortable position in the tiny bunk he was reminded of the warmth of her hand as she'd thanked him for helping her. She had the most beautiful blue eyes, wide and innocent and full of life. Her features were delicate and –

_No,_ he stopped himself firmly. He would not go there. He would not think about that. She was simply a woman who had gotten lost, who he had aided, and who he would never see again.

He knew that very well. But it still couldn't stop him from dwelling on their meeting.

He had been taken completely by surprise when the young woman had barrelled into him as though hell itself was on her heels. She was only small, but the force of her impact against him had almost winded him, and he had been caught unprepared for such an encounter. If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd been holding on to the railing for support, he would have ended up on his back on the deck for certain. John could only imagine how embarrassing that would have been. When he'd taken his first glance at her, he had expected to see someone – anyone – else. Perhaps a young boy who had gotten a little too exuberant in his play. Or a young man chasing after an errant child.

Certainly not Anna Smith.

She'd been polite and contrite and (dare he think it?) rather endearing. He had greeted her cordially, and waited for her inquisitive enquiries when he'd observed that she'd noticed that he used a cane. In his life, he had grown used to fake sympathy and irritating curiosity when it came to the deficiency in his gait. He'd perfected a mask of polite indifference to rebuff the queries of details that he did not wish to give. So when Anna Smith had realised that he was a cripple, he had braced himself for the inevitable.

And had been completely and utterly and pleasantly surprised when she had not made any comment about his injury after her initial realisation. She had simply carried on with her initial conversation as though nothing was out of the ordinary. When they'd walked together she hadn't faltered, as though she'd been walking by his side for years.

It was as disconcerting as it was refreshing.

John had not been expecting her to call out after him, either, when he'd helped her to find her way back to first class. He had expected a polite thank you and nothing more. Certainly not a hint that they might meet again.

It would not do to think about that.

He'd felt suddenly and inexplicably cold when she had shut the door quietly behind her and left him standing in the darkness alone. There had been no reason to, of course, and John had wrestled with confusion at the unexplainable feelings. Why should he feel so affected by a woman that he didn't even know? It was ridiculous. He'd smoked a couple more cigarettes to calm his nerves (though he told himself firmly that they weren't because of her), then decided to call it a night, his limbs heavy from the day's events. Stumbling through the door to his little cabin he'd found his roommates already fast asleep and snoring, the stench of ale hanging heavily in the air.

He'd been lying awake ever since, burying his face into his pillow to attempt to assuage the desire that came with the smell of the ale, the temptation to sneak out and find respite in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. The sweet echo of Miss Smith's voice echoed in his head like a mantra, driving him mad.

_Perhaps we'll meet again._

The men in the other beds snored on, oblivious to the fact that John Bates' world had just been turned upside down for the fourth time in his life; he wasn't sure if anything could ever be the same now that he had met Anna Smith, the maid with a smile that sent the world reeling.

* * *

_04:15_

O'Brien was snoring lightly from the bed across from her. It was irksome and keeping her from sleeping.

_Keep telling yourself that, Anna._

Anna rolled onto her back and let out a long sigh, throwing her arms up above her head. Why was it so difficult to get the thought of Mr. John Bates out of her head? There had been absolutely nothing remarkable about him. He was not devastatingly handsome. He was not young and capable. He had to be almost twenty years her senior. And yet there was something about him, something charismatic. His eyes had twinkled when he'd smiled and joked. He'd been cordial and polite and hadn't looked at her as though she was a piece of meat that needed to be devoured – a refreshing change from the usual leers that men sent her way. He hadn't made her feel uncomfortable. And there had been something sad about him, something tragic; it was in the way that he held himself, in the way that he had to walk with the aid of a cane. The truth was undeniable: she wanted to know more about him. Why, she wasn't sure. But he had helped to save her from the family's certain disappointment, and she would be eternally grateful for that.

She had made it back to her cabin flushed and shaking, and had hastily slipped into her uniform before rushing towards Lady Mary's quarters. She'd been ten minutes late – a miracle considering that without John Bates' help she would've still been in the third class part of the ship, frantically attempting to find her way back to first. Lady Mary had raised an eyebrow in question as she'd burst into the room, flustered and pink-faced, but she'd forgone asking about what was wrong with her in favour of complaining about the stuffy people that she had met at dinner. For this, Anna was extremely grateful. Her own mind had been completely occupied by the encounter that she had just been a part of. She'd managed to make non-committal noises in all of the right places as she'd dressed Lady Mary for bed, before thankfully escaping back to her own room. Luckily, Miss O'Brien had still been preoccupied with Lady Grantham, so Anna had taken it as an opportunity to quickly ready herself for bed and avoid any snide comments from the lady's maid. She'd been snuggled up in the warm bed sheets when O'Brien had eventually reappeared and, feigning sleep, had been left alone with only a couple of muttered curses under the lady's maid's breath.

But now, hours later, she still hadn't slept a wink.

_This is ridiculous, _she told herself. Losing sleep over a man she'd barely spent five minutes with was beyond stupid. She was acting like a simple girl smitten by a boy for the first time, not a young woman who was practical and level-headed.

But even so, she had meant what she'd thought earlier: she wanted to see him again.

But what reason could she give for orchestrating another meeting between the two of them? She couldn't very well just go down there again without a reason. And, in any case, it was arguable that she might never find him again down there. There were plenty of people who were setting sail for a new life in America down in third class. John Bates could easily be lost in the crowd.

And yet she knew that she had to try. Her mother had always complained that her tenacity was as irritating as it was admirable, and it was true: once she had her mind fixated on something, she would always follow it through, no matter the cost.

_You make Mr. Bates sound like a project,_ she chided herself. _He likely doesn't want to hear from you again. Don't make things worse._

_How can you make it worse?_ a second voice, a more daring part of her, asked. _Mr. Bates doesn't seem to be the sort of person who would brush you off if you were to meet again._

_That's only because he's too polite to._

Out loud, Anna twisted onto her stomach and groaned into her pillow. This was getting absurd. Why should she be arguing with herself over a man like John Bates? Gwen would likely think her mad if this ever got back to her.

_Will it, though? Or would you like to keep Mr. Bates as your own little secret?_

She told the voice in her head to shut up and then rolled onto her side, staring sightlessly out into her little room. None of this mattered, anyway. It was pointless to argue with herself over such a thing. There was a high chance that she'd never be able to get back into third class – it had only happened this time because of sheer dumb luck – and even if she did, what excuse could she offer for seeking him out? That she was intrigued by him? That she just wanted to spend time with him? That he did something to her insides that no man had ever done before? They were all completely ludicrous excuses, and ones that could never be repeated outside her head. She had no plausible reason for seeing Mr. Bates again.

But then she sat up quickly. Her heart was beating fast in her chest. Her palms were sweaty. There was a way. But it was insane. Mad. Unthinkable.

Could she ever do it?

Aware of the need to be quiet, Anna slipped out of bed and padded quietly across the room to where her little storage cupboard was. Dropping to her knees beside it, she squinted in the darkness and rummaged in her things, waiting to feel the tell-tale softness of her mother's old lucky charm. At last her fingers closed around it, buried in a pile of her undergarments, and she pulled it out, retreating quietly to her bed again before Miss O'Brien could awaken and accuse her of being sentimental. Because this wasn't about being sentimental.

At least, not entirely.

Huddled beneath the covers again, Anna traced her fingers down the charm's elegant stitching. It was small, in the shape of a bear. Her mother had brought it out of her room for her years ago, when she'd first moved away into Lord Grantham's service. Her mother had told her that it would keep her safe and protect her, that she had to keep it with her at all times and that, in future, when she was married and had children of her own, she had to pass it on and let the tradition continue. It had always brought the women of her family good luck, she'd stated. She wanted that to continue. Now that Anna had reached the age of twenty-six without even the slightest mention of a courtship, however, it seemed that her mother had given up all hope of her ever settling down and marrying. She was not expecting to see it get passed on now.

But perhaps she _could_ pass it on. Perhaps she could pass it on to Mr. Bates as a sign of thanks for helping her out yesterday. It would destroy her to be parted from the charm. She had had it for so long now that it would feel as though a piece of her was missing if it was gone. But it would be for a good cause. It would give her an excuse to seek him out again, to talk with him, to get to know him better.

That made her mind up for her. Her mother had always said that she was too stubborn for her own good.

Later on tonight, when she was free for a couple of hours while Lady Mary dined, she would find a way back down into third class. She would offer the charm to Mr. Bates.

And she would get to know him better.

* * *

_06:15_

The other men in John's room were still sleeping soundly, but John had barely slept a wink. His mind was too consumed, whirring away like a steam engine at full speed. His bad knee had complained all night, as though it was competing with Anna Smith for attention, and now he pushed himself up, shuffling himself up onto the edge of his tiny bunk, running a hand wearily through his mussed tresses. There was no point in trying to sleep now. He had never been a good sleeper, and especially not since his return from Africa, and soon enough the other men in the room would be rousing to start another joyous and hope-filled day.

Moving quietly so that he wouldn't disturb the other men who were slumbering peacefully, John carefully grabbed at his clothes and sat himself down again to get dressed. He might as well start the day early. There would be breakfast going soon, and he could always make his way up onto the deck so that he could watch the sun rise. He had done it often enough after his return from Africa, before his terrible stint in prison. Grabbing his cane from the end of his bed, he gritted his teeth and refrained from using it until he was out in the corridor, where the echo of the tapping would hopefully not disturb anyone.

He sighed in relief as he emerged onto the deck. A few people had filtered out here, obviously early risers like him, but for the most part the deck was empty, and John was able to find a little bench with ease, settling down onto it with a sigh and stretching his leg out in front of him in order to accommodate the screaming muscles. The horizon was just beginning to turn a becoming pink, like a lady's blush. John felt the corners of his mouth tugging upwards slightly – the closest he got to a smile nowadays – and tipped his head back, feeling into his pocket for a cigarette. He pulled it out and lit it, inhaling and then exhaling a large cloud of smoke into the early dawn. A chilly wind whipped around him, but he was undeterred by it. He simply sat there in silence, smoking his cigarette, watching the sun rise. It was an absolutely breath-taking sight, unrivalled in its beauty.

Well, almost.

In the furthest corner of John Bates' mind, there was the shadowy and idle thought that Anna Smith's smile had been even more beautiful.

He wasn't even aware of it.

* * *

_13.30_

Anna sighed, pushing despondently at the food on her plate, her appetite non-existent. There was no way that she would be able to stomach it without being violently sick. It wasn't as though she was ill – the slight feeling of sea-sickness that she had initially experienced had passed quickly once she'd acclimatised to the sensation of constant movement beneath her feet – but she still couldn't stomach the thought of putting one morsel into her mouth.

She was far too nervous and apprehensive for that.

There were so many things that could go wrong with what she was planning to do. For one, she might not even be able to spare the time to slip below decks. Lady Mary might require extra duties from her; she had overheard her ladyship and Lady Mary in a heated argument just before she'd dressed her for luncheon, something about ensuring that she was noticed. Anna knew immediately what this would mean for her: more work.

Still, she shouldn't complain. She'd be a fool if she didn't think that the position she held was a wonderful one. There were plenty other houses out there that did not boast the kindness and generosity that the Granthams bestowed on their staff.

_Even so,_ a small, treacherous voice in her head complained, _if you don't go back down there tonight, you'll lose your nerve and never see Mr. Bates again._

There it was again, that niggling desire. Her fascination with the injured man was beginning to scare her. No one should be so transfixed on someone after just one meeting.

She shook the thought off quickly. It did not do to dwell on such things.

At that moment, her musings were interrupted by a sour voice. "Anna."

It could only be one person.

She turned in her seat to find O'Brien standing behind her, her face its usual dark scowl. She was holding a half-eaten sandwich in one hand. Evidently her ladyship had kept her busy all morning, and she had not had time to come and eat her own lunch.

"What is it?" Anna asked, doing her best to stifle a yawn. She wished that she'd managed to grab a few more hours' sleep. She was finding it difficult to face the day like this.

"Lady Mary is back from luncheon early. She wants to change so that she and Mr. Patrick can take a turn around the ship."

Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn't Lady Mary's fault that she'd been brought up to conform so rigidly to the expectations of society, but it was irritating when it meant changing her _again_ just for a walk around those stuffy rooms and the pristine deck.

Nevertheless, she rose dutifully from her seat. "I'm on my way now." It wasn't as if she was interested in finishing her meal, anyway. Her appetite had long since abandoned her.

In any case, the extra work might take her mind of what she was going to do that evening.

At least, she hoped that it would.

* * *

_17.30_

John tried to smile as he listened to Samuel – the man who had lost his wife – tell the group about his plans for when he set foot in America. Something about seeking out a property and using his remaining money to set up a shop. He tried to nod, to look interested, but he was distracted. He tried not to stare at the amber liquid in the glasses that were on the table top in front of him. His hands shook underneath the table. He'd only been sitting here for a couple of hours but he'd already smoked more than half a dozen cigarettes. The taste of the smoke was doing little to abate his yearning for a drink. If he continued on at this rate then he would be out of cigarettes before they were even halfway through the journey. Still, he needed to keep within the circle of those sharing the little cabin. He did not want to become a total outcast.

"Fancy another round, boys?" George, the youngest member of the little party, was already beginning to sound a little slurred. Clearly he wasn't man enough to handle his drink yet. John wished he could show him how to really do it. But he couldn't. The tiniest taste of a drink would send him on the downward spiral.

"You having one this time, John?" Harry's eyes were curious as they regarded him. The rest of the men turned their gazes on him as soon as the words were uttered.

A hot, prickling sensation burned the back of his head. "I'm not thirsty just now."

_Oh, you liar, John Bates._ He was more than thirsty. Right now he'd do almost anything for a drink.

Harry shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. "Same again, lads?"

There was a chorus of cheers, and Harry grinned good-naturedly.

"Actually," John said as he disappeared into the crowd of rowdy men, "I think I'll just step outside for a few minutes."

"Come on, live a little, Johnny! You sound as if you're a member of that ruddy temperance league!"

George sounded exactly like Vera had done. Slightly drunk, slightly mocking, slightly malevolent. A terrible combination. It was enough to propel him to his feet, grasping his cane in sweaty palms. He was sure that he looked a little mad, and couldn't bring himself to care. He just had to get out of this torturous hell. He had tried to be strong, and he was failing. If he didn't get out now then he wouldn't have a hope of lasting much longer without a drink passing between his lips. A drink would turn into ten. Ten would turn into however many it took to make him pass out. And then the cycle would start again. And again. And again. An endless phase, with no getting out of it this time.

No, he couldn't do it. He had promised his mother on his honour. And his honour and his mother's pride were the only things he had left that were worth something to him.

So he forced a smile onto his face. "Perhaps I am. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He left the table then, gripping his cane so tightly that he could feel it marking his skin, his teeth clenched in a way that made his jaw feel tighter than a drum.

Fresh air. Fresh air was what he needed. Just enough of it to clear his head of the drink fumes that had begun to rot there. Just enough to give the illusion that he was winning his war.

* * *

_20.00_

"Is there anything else you need, milady?" Anna asked as she gathered her things together. Internally, her stomach was rolling so fast that she thought she might be sick.

Mary regarded herself critically in the mirror for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I have everything I need. Thank you, Anna. I'll see you later."

"Certainly, milady," Anna bobbed her head graciously before backing out of the room. The last thing she wanted was for Lady Mary to call her back for something that she'd forgotten. She was already completely and utterly nervous about what she was about to do. If she put it off any longer, then she knew that she would lose her nerve completely.

Making it back to her own room was easy enough. O'Brien was once again absent, and Anna thanked her ladyship for that one. Sometimes she supposed that it was incredibly selfish of Lady Grantham to take so long getting ready, but if it could somehow be played to Anna's own advantage, like it could be tonight, then she couldn't say she minded. Plus it was hard to sympathise with a woman who made it known every day, in a tiring, persistent manner, that she couldn't stand being in service as it was.

Throwing her cap and apron into the little cupboard that held her clothes so that O'Brien wouldn't notice in case she came back, Anna pulled out her best Sunday dress again and wriggled into it as quickly as she could, cursing herself when her trembling fingers managed to fumble the ties on her corset. Forcing herself to move with deliberate slowness, Anna untied them and did them again, using the time that it took to do this to gather herself under control. She pulled out the two hats that she'd brought with her and deliberated agonisingly over them, eventually choosing the pretty black one which had cost her most of her month's wages a couple of months before they'd begun this trip to America. She wasn't sure why she'd chosen that one, but she found that it _did_ make her pale cheeks and blue eyes stand out.

_And why would a thing like that matter?_

She chose to ignore that thought in favour of pulling on her gloves.

She was ready to leave five minutes later, and she dropped the charm into her pocket, heart thumping fast. Pausing one last time to eye herself critically in the little looking glass, she adjusted her hat and stepped out into the corridor. A couple of maids were rushing past her as they went about their work. They gave Anna sour looks as they dashed by, but Anna couldn't bring herself to care. It wasn't her fault that their masters and mistresses worked them harder than the Granthams did.

She slipped passed the servants' room with relative ease, pausing for a second to peer inside to see if she could spot O'Brien in the crowd. After a moment she did and, for a heart-stopping moment, she thought that the lady's maid looked up and saw her standing there in her best Sunday dress again. But the room was thick with cigarette smoke and Anna couldn't be sure if she'd imagined it or not. Still, she wasn't about to take any chances, and backed away quickly, hurrying as far away from the hall as possible.

When she was far away enough, she slowed down. She had to think about this rationally. It was going to be difficult to sneak back down into third class. She was lucky to have done it once. But there would be a chance. She knew there would.

With that in mind, she made her way to the place where she had come out the night before, before settling herself onto a bench to wait. She'd brought a book along with her, and pretended to be engrossed in it as she waited for her chance to slip by the steward on the door. She'd been there twenty minutes before God graced her with an opportunity.

There was the sound of shouting and wailing from just around the corner. A child's cry. And then the child came into sight, his face red and puffy with tears. He looked disorientated and fearful. The steward was upon him at once, crouching down in front of him.

"What's the matter, sir?" he asked the boy.

"I've lost my mama!" the boy wailed hysterically. "She's gone and left me!"

"I'm sure she can't be far," the steward comforted him. "And I'm sure she's very worried about you. Why don't we go and find her together? She can't be far away."

At the man's words, the boy calmed a little. Sniffing twice, he nodded his head and extended a little hand towards him. The steward took it, before standing up. Together, the two rounded the corner in search of the boy's missing parents.

Anna was on her feet before they'd barely disappeared from sight, stuffing the book into her little bag. Before she could talk herself into changing her mind, she hurried across the deck and threw the door open. Once on the stairs inside, she pulled the door closed behind her. No one would know what she was up to.

She took a moment or two to compose herself, then started down the stairs. She'd have to tread carefully now in case she was discovered. John Bates was down there somewhere, and she needed to see him.

_And what if you don't find him? There are hundreds of people in third class. It'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack._

She dismissed the thought quickly. There was a feeling deep in her bones that it wouldn't come to that. She couldn't say where this intuition was coming from, but she trusted it implicitly.

Taking a deep breath, Anna continued forward.

* * *

_20.30_

With a sigh of relief, Anna stepped into the third class general room. It had taken enough time to reach this place, but she thought it was the best place to start. If she looked here and found him, then it would save her the pain of walking around on the deck looking for him. It wasn't unfeasible that he'd be enjoying a drink at this time, perhaps before he went for his dinner.

The stench of smoke and ale hit her as soon as she stepped into the room, and she wrinkled her nose against it. It was a man's smell and, coupled with the stale stench of sweat, it really was quite pungent. Still, she persevered with it, moving deeper into the room. There was laughter, bawdy and loud, as she made her way through, glancing this way and that for the almost-familiar silhouette of Mr. Bates, squinting through the film of smoke. Some men offered her appreciative looks and leering grins – it was rare for a woman to walk in a place which was deemed as theirs. Others were more disapproving, clearly not comfortable with a woman in their presence. Anna tried to ignore them all, her heart leaping as she thought she saw the man she was looking for, only for it to fall disappointedly when she realised that the man she'd mistaken for him was nothing like him after all. Reaching the bar, she sighed and decided to order herself a drink. She couldn't very well just wander aimlessly between all these men without having anything to do.

"I'll have a cider, please," she said to the barman.

He raised his eyebrow cautiously. Clearly he was a better man than most of the ones frequenting here. "You sure, love? You don' look like you're with anyone here – not sure if it's the best thing for you to be around these men when they've had a few –"

"Oi, fill 'em up, man!" came a bawdy and decidedly drunk voice from behind her. Anna cringed and turned around to see a young man of no more than about twenty stagger up to the bar. He slammed his glass down for emphasis, then did a double-take, as though he'd only just seen the woman standing next to him.

"Well, what do we 'ave 'ere?" he slurred, his accent much stronger because of the beer he'd consumed. Anna cringed at the smell of his breath. "Make it a double! I'll buy one for the pre'y lady 'ere!"

"Oh, there's no need to do that," Anna said at once.

"I insis'! Can' 'ave a woman such as yer fine self buyin' 'er own drink now, can we? C'mon, come wi' me. I'll show yer 'round this place."

"No, I'm fine, thank you," she said, beginning to feel irritated rather than intimidated by the man's incessant badgering. "I'm actually looking for someone, so I'd better not come with you."

"Yer missin' out, lass! I can show yer a be'er time than whoever yer meetin'!"

She bristled at being referred to as a _lass_ when she was clearly older than he was. "You're nothing more than a boy. And you're drunk. I'm sure you're a perfect gentleman most of the time, but I don't take kindly to being prepositioned in the middle of a crowded bar."

Somewhere in the background, the barman snorted his appreciation. She ignored him.

The young man blinked stupidly at her. "Well, who are yer meetin' tha' can be so mich be'er than me?"

Anna sighed in exasperation. He really did not understand it. "I'm looking for a friend."

"Lookin' fer 'im? 'As 'e stood yer up? 'S'no' very gen'lemanly o' 'im."

Why was she still having this conversation? "He doesn't know I'm here yet. That's why I'm trying to find him."

"Wha's 'is name? Maybe I can be o' assistance."

The likeliness of this man knowing John Bates was almost laughable, but Anna was feeling desperate enough to ask. If he didn't know of him…well, no harm was done. She could continue on as she was, hoping that she'd stumble across him. And, if by some sort of miracle, he did know of him, then it would save her a lot of trouble.

"His name is John Bates," she said. "I met him yesterday."

For a moment, the man simply stood there blinking at her with red eyes. And then they widened comically. "John Bates!? John Bates!?"

Anna's heart began to speed up in her chest. "What, you know who he is?"

"Tall bloke? Crippled?"

Anna winced at the word – such an ugly description! – but nevertheless nodded eagerly. "Yes, that's right! Do you know where I might find him?"

"Sure do!" hiccupped the man. "In fact, 'e's sittin' right over there on tha' table wi' me!"

Anna followed his shaking finger as he pointed her in the right direction. Her heart almost stopped beating in her chest when she realised (good God, surely a miracle!) that John Bates was indeed sitting at the table, looking rather uncomfortable and out of place, surrounded by several other drunk looking men.

"Reckon I should get a reward for bein' so 'elpful," said the man, but she ignored him, beginning to move towards the table where John Bates was seated. Her legs were trembling as she walked.

_It's not too late to back out,_ she thought. _You can be out of here before he realises anything. He hasn't seen you yet._

But her legs, despite their shaking, ignored her and continued to push her forwards. Snatches of their conversation began to float towards her, and the smell of beer was almost overwhelming now. She could hear the young man stumbling behind her, trailing her like a puppy.

John Bates was not the first person to notice her; instead, one of the other drunken men rounded on them.

"Well, look 'ere!" he slurred leeringly. "Look what old Harry has brought us back! I been missin' a woman's touch over these last few years. Good on yer, Harry. Yer deserve another pint for this little beauty!"

At his words, John Bates finally looked up. For a suspended second, they simply stared at each other. And then John Bates' eyes were widening, and he stumbled to his feet so quickly that he almost knocked the table over. He didn't seem drunk in the slightest; in fact, he seemed completely alert and in control of his senses.

There was complete silence for a moment, as the men took in the scene before them. Anna and Mr. Bates didn't even notice; they simply stared at each other.

"Hello, Mr. Bates," Anna said.

* * *

**A/N:** Lame ending is lame. Actually, I just cut it here since I was conscious of it getting long (recently realised that I seem to have lost the ability to write anything short), so I thought I'd save the rest for another time. So yeah, not a lot really happens here. Sorry...?

I don't actually know what time luncheon was served on the _Titanic_. I did try and research it, and the best answer I got was "3 AM", so I made it up. Also, I realise the "charm" was very contrived and convenient, but I could literally think of no other way of moving it along.

On the bright side, I've got this all planned out so I know what I want to happen. Now it's just a case of me writing it. :) I'll try and not make it five months until I next update. :P


	4. As Natural as the Tide

**A/N:** So it didn't take me as long to update this time around! I'm going to try to aim an update at least once a month, although that won't be happening in January because life is just going to be absolutely crazy for me from now until the beginning of February. I hope that everything reads smoothly - it's difficult to write their interactions in a different situation!

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

* * *

_4. As Natural as the Tide_

_Thursday 11__th__ April, 1912, 20:40_

This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. Miss Anna Smith could not be standing in front of him, surrounded by a table of drunkards. It just couldn't be real.

"Hello, Mr. Bates."

But, somehow, it was.

He leapt to his feet then, almost sending the table flying as he reached for his cane, eyes wide and confused. "Miss Smith? What on earth are you doing here?"

She was about to reply when George stumbled back to the table, attempting to explain the situation to the others while also trying to put his hands on her. "Apparently, this is ol' Bates' woman!"

This was met with a chorus of catcalls and laughter, and Mr. Bates flushed a deep crimson.

"Where you been hidin' her?" one of the other men demanded to know as he looked her up and down appreciatively. "You certainly don't waste long do ya, Bates?"

"She's not my woman!" Mr. Bates snapped. "And have some respect. She's a lady. Don't insinuate such vulgar things."

Anna's heart sank a little at the beginning of his vehement statement, and it scared her. Of course she wasn't his woman. She'd barely spent twenty minutes with him. She didn't know anything about him. And he certainly wasn't the sort of person who would normally turn her head. She decided that she was more annoyed at being addressed as though she was simply an object, or a woman with no morals. At least Mr. Bates was being kind and defending her.

He turned his gaze on her then, looking worried. "I apologise, Miss Smith. This behaviour is unacceptable."

"It's fine," she said, twisting her hands together. "Honestly, Mr. Bates."

"So what are yer doin' 'ere?" Harry asked with a lecherous smile. "Why d'ya wanna see ol' Bates? 'E never mentioned yer before!"

Mr. Bates shot him an irritated glare. "I wasn't aware that I had to share every detail of myself with you."

"Well, I would've thought that you'd wanna mention a friend like this! She could've joined us earlier!" George piped up.

"Friend?" Mr. Bates sounded surprised.

"'Course, she said so 'erself."

Anna felt herself blushing as Mr. Bates gaze found hers, sharp and speculative. She opened her mouth to explain herself, but their attention was diverted by Samuel banging his glass on the table.

"Well, pull up a chair, lass," he said. "Plenty of room for another one, especially someone as lovely as you!"

She thought she saw a flicker of fire in Mr. Bates' eyes as he turned to regard him. "Miss Smith won't be drawing up a chair."

"C'mon, Bates! Lighten up! It's just a bit o' fun! Why don' we see what the lady wants, eh?"

All eyes were on her then. She felt as if she was burning with embarrassment and shame. She should never have done this. "Actually, I just wanted a quick word with Mr. Bates."

Samuel reclined back in his seat, waving his arm as though he was being generous. "Well, anythin' yer've got t' say t' Bates, you can say in fronta us."

She frowned. "No, actually, I'd like a _private_ word with Mr. Bates."

There was a series of catcalls and raucous jeering at that.

"Y'hear that, Bates? She wants a _private_ word!"

Mr. Bates' expression was cold and unforgiving. For a moment, Anna was taken aback by it. She didn't know him well at all, but she had never thought in a million years that such an expression could cross his face. And yet, when he turned back to regard her, his face was soft and apologetic.

"Let's take a turn around the deck," he told her. "We'll be able to speak more freely there."

"You sure you're not takin' 'er fer a turn in yer bed sheets, Bates?" one of the men called crudely after them. Anna felt Mr. Bates stiffen beside her, but he didn't respond as he continued to lead her away. Anna could feel the eyes of the whole bar watching them depart together. She could feel herself flushing hot with humiliation, and hoped that people wouldn't take that as a guilty sign. Mr. Bates was clenching his jaw.

Once they were on the stairs which would lead them to fresh air, he halted them at once, looking agonised. "Miss Smith, I'm mortified that you had to listen to such appalling comments. I can assure you that I would never even dream of –"

"I know," she was quick to reassure him. "Honestly, Mr. Bates, it's fine."

He shook his head. "No, it's not. You shouldn't have to hear those sorts of comments. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said gently. "They're all drunk. I'll take not the slightest bit of notice of them."

He smiled then, looking relieved. She noticed again that his eyes crinkled. It really did suit him. But then he sobered almost as quickly, peering cautiously down at her.

"But why are you here, Miss Smith? I don't understand."

They'd emerged onto the third class deck, and Anna led him towards the railings so that they could look over the sea – anything to stall for a few more seconds. She was beginning to remember just why she had made her way down to third class, and the reason for it was beginning to sound more and more stupid with every second that passed. Just what would Mr. Bates think of her…?

"Miss Smith?"

She turned to find his gaze on her, warm and concerned. His eyes were a lovely shade of brown, she noticed distractedly, like warm chocolate. She twisted her hands together in agitation.

"Anna, please," she said, managing a smile. "I've never been Miss Smith in my life. It's making me feel rather nervous!"

"Then if I'm to call you Anna, you really should start calling me John. It would be terribly unfair if you didn't."

"I don't know," she teased him gently, "Mr. Bates suites you rather a lot."

He smiled at her again, then grew more solemn once more. "So, Anna, what do you need to speak to me about?"

She shifted from foot to foot, looking out-of-place. "Oh, you'll probably think I'm being terribly silly."

"Never," he reassured her quickly. He thought that he was telling the truth. Anna Smith was an intriguing creature. He doubted that she had the ability to appear silly.

She took a deep breath. She could delay no longer. "Well, I just thought that I'd come down here to thank you again for what you did for me last night. You really saved me. Thanks to you, I was only a little late, and my lady never questioned me about it, which was a blessed relief."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "I told you yesterday, it was absolutely no trouble whatsoever. You really needn't have risked getting into trouble just to tell me that again. Honestly, I knew you appreciated it, and that was nice."

Her heart sank a little in her chest. So, he hadn't been expecting to hear from her again after all. Perhaps, like she'd feared, he hadn't _wanted_ to hear from her ever again.

"Oh, well," she stammered, "I just wanted to give something to you. As a token of my appreciation."

The silence stretched on as Mr. Bates digested her words. Anna twisted her hands together as she regarded him earnestly.

"You needn't do anything like that," he said at last. "Truly, Miss Smith –"

"– Anna –"

" – Anna, my apologies. But truly, I would hate for you to think that you owed me something when I was simply doing what any decent person would have done."

"Even so," she said, and hated the fact that her voice was unsteady. "I would still like to give it to you."

And then she withdrew it, feeling more foolish than ever. What if he thought she was childish and ridiculous? She would hate for him to think that of her.

He furrowed his brow upon seeing it, and she hoped that he wouldn't be able to tell that her hand was trembling.

"What is it?" he asked tentatively.

She could feel a hot, prickly sensation at her skull. "It's my lucky charm. My mother gave it to me a long time ago. And I would very much like for you to have it."

"I can't accept this," he said at once.

"What? Why?"

"Because of what it is," he said. "You said that your mother gave it to you many years ago. I cannot possibly accept such a thing. I'm very flattered that you offered it to me, but you really needn't have. I helped you get back into first class so that you wouldn't get in trouble. That isn't a deed worthy of such a precious gift."

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't like it?" She hated how pathetic she sounded.

"Not at all!" he hastened to explain. "Miss Smith, it's a wonderful gesture. Truly, one of the loveliest things that anyone has ever offered to me in my whole life. But I know how much it must mean to you. And I cannot possibly accept it. It wouldn't be right."

"I honestly want you to have it," she said. "I wouldn't have offered otherwise."

"But even so," he argued. "It holds a lot of sentimentality. I cannot possibly take it from you."

"Please," she repeated. There was a determined light in her eyes. John had never known the likes of her before. His wife had been stubborn, but her stubbornness had been born out of bitterness. This remarkable young woman standing in front of him was so very unlike his wife, determined for the most selfless reasons, and it was this that made him pause.

"I have an idea," he said.

"Oh?" Anna's brow crinkled in confusion. "What's that?"

"How about we compromise?"

"Compromise?"

"Yes. Since neither of appear to want to back down, I thought we could reach a mutual agreement."

Despite herself, she had to smile at that. "Then please do tell."

"Well," he said, beginning to grin a little himself, "I could keep the charm for the duration of this trip. And then, just before we reach America, I could give it back to you. Think of it as a sort of loan."

She considered this for a moment. Could she do that? She had told herself that she would give the charm to Mr. Bates but, at the same time, she rather liked the idea of getting it back. It was very special to her, after all.

Mr. Bates was still staring at her. "Well? Do you find that acceptable?" His voice held just the tiniest hint of a teasing tone. She rather liked the sound of it.

"Very well," she said solemnly, though her eyes were twinkling. "I think that that's an agreement we can settle upon."

"Excellent," he replied, his smile widening. This time he took the charm when she offered it to him, slipping it carefully into a pocket inside his waistcoat.

"We should shake on it," Anna said suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"Well, isn't shaking hands the proper way to seal a deal?" she teased. "I may be a woman who knows nothing about business, Mr. Bates, but I do know that!"

A grin of his own spread across his face at her words. "Perhaps you're right," he agreed. Hooking his cane expertly over his left wrist, he offered his hand to her. She took it without a moment's hesitation.

The feel of his hand was the same as it had been yesterday. Anna had to supress a shiver at it. Without his gloves, she could just begin to feel the cold from his fingers seeping into her own gloved ones. His grip was still firm and confident. There was hidden strength in that hand, she could feel it. It was rather exciting. For a moment, she briefly wondered what it would be like to touch his fingers directly, without any layers separating them.

She swiftly shook those thoughts away, jerking her hand from his grasp. Mr. Bates looked moderately surprised by her quick movements, but didn't say anything. She was grateful for that.

"Shall we walk?" she asked instead, needing the distraction.

"Walk?" he sounded more surprised than ever.

"Well, I did come down here to see you," she said, feeling uncertain all over again. "Unless you're eager to get back inside? I can understand if you are of course, and if I'm being a nuisance –"

"Of course not," he said quickly. "You could never be a nuisance, Anna."

The way that her name rolled off his tongue was really rather delicious. Anna shivered, but mostly because of the cold. To dispel her increasingly dangerous thoughts, she began to move, and he followed her, close to her side. Every so often, his arm would brush against hers. It sent sparks through her body. She wondered why.

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Bates began to fumble in his pockets. Anna eyed him curiously, wondering what he was doing. At last he withdrew a packet of rather battered looking cigarettes.

"Oh, you smoke?" Anna couldn't contain her shock. He hadn't seemed like the smoking type to her.

"I'm afraid I do," he said, pulling one out. "Nasty habit, I'm afraid, but it can't be helped. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, of course not," she said automatically, but had to wrinkle her nose against the stench as he flared one up.

He closed his eyes and took a deep drag, tilting his head back to exhale a plume of smoke into the night sky. Anna wrinkled her nose again as the terrible smell assaulted her senses, then tried to rearrange her expression into one of neutrality when he looked her way. Unfortunately, he caught the disdain on her face.

"It does bother you," he said at once, looking guilty. "I'm sorry, Anna, I'll put it out at once."

"No, you don't need to do that," she protested. "Honestly, Mr. Bates. Smoke it."

He took another drag on it before throwing it over the railing and into the sea.

"Mr. Bates, I said you could finish it!"

"I know," he replied. "And it was lovely of you to say so, but I wouldn't dream of making you wait while I finished it. I understand that it's not everyone's favourite habit. My mother used to hate me smoking. I don't like it, if I'm honest."  
"So why don't you give it up?" Her voice was innocent and curious.

"Oh, I've had a bit too long and a few too many to give them up now," he said evasively.

"Two of the people I work with smoke," she confided. "Normally it wouldn't bother me, but I think I find it more irritating that they use their smoke breaks to go outside and plot together. Everyone knows they do it, but no one can prove anything. They're the nastiest people around."

"You make them sound like some sort of villains," he joked.

"Oh, believe me, they're not much better than that. Thomas and Miss O'Brien are terrible. Half of the servants back home are terrified of them. I think that's part of the reason why I don't like smoking – it reminds me of them too much."

"I suppose I should be grateful that I'll never have to meet them if they're that terrifying."

"You should be. I mean, they're not so bad when they're on their own, but they can't help but complain all the time, and they like to sneer at others. I just wish that they hadn't had to come on this trip with me."

"Sounds to me like you're a rose caught between two thorns."

She descended into a fit of laughter, but sobered a little when she realised how serious his eyes were, though he too was smiling.

"You're too kind," she said, feeling a little flustered.

"Not at all. It must be true."

They continued walking across the deck for a few moments longer. The tap of Mr. Bates' cane against the floor was repetitive and soothing.

"Will you have much time to yourself in America?" he asked her suddenly.

"I don't know," she said, frowning slightly. "Why?"

He shrugged, lowering his voice playfully. "You seem to find enough time here in your busy day to visit an old cripple like me."

She had to giggle at that, lowering her eyes to the deck. "Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly. This isn't putting you back, is it?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. I always make sure I've got my work done, and I can always finish off what I need when I get back."

"But doesn't that mean you have to stay up late?"

"Believe me, I'm used to it. I've been a maid for a long time now. Long hours are completely normal."

They walked a little further, side by side. Anna wondered if perhaps they were walking closer than they should have been.

"Can I ask you something, Anna?"

"I think you just did."

He flushed slightly at her teasing, dipping his head.

"You don't have to ask permission, Mr. Bates," she said, more seriously this time. "What's wrong?"

"I just can't fathom that you're honestly willing to waste your time on someone like me. I'm not sure I deserve so much of your time when it was only by chance that I could help you. There must be plenty of other people who would love to spend time with you."

"I'm not wasting my time," she reassured him. "Not in the slightest. I know that we don't really know each other, but I feel comfortable with you, Mr. Bates. You're a gentleman, and although I don't know you very well yet, you're very good company. Much better company than any of the other stuffy servants in first class. I sometimes think that they're more imperious than their masters are!"

"Well, that's nice to hear," he said with a quirk of his lips. "I've never been very good company before."

"Now you're just being modest," she said, pulling out her pocket watch. Her eyes widened.

"What's the matter?" John asked her at once, seeing her reaction.

She shook her head. "It's later than I thought. I'm sorry, Mr. Bates, but I'm going to have to get going soon. I'll be late again if I don't."

"Well, we can't have that," he said. "I'd feel terrible if I was the reason for you being late."

"But you were also the reason that I _wasn't_ very late yesterday, so it evens itself out," she told him with a smile as they began to make their way back towards the interior of the ship.

"You're very good at making people feel better about themselves," he commented teasingly.

She smirked in reply. "I like to see fairness is all, Mr. Bates."

It took them only a few seconds longer to reach the door which Anna had slipped through just last night. They came to a standstill in front of it, grateful that the cold night air was keeping most people inside.

"I should say goodnight now," she said, checking her little pocket watch again. "I daren't be late again, or my lady might find it appropriate to chastise me. We've always been on rather good terms, but I know she can have a sharp tongue when she wants to."

"She sounds rather fearsome."

"And made all the more fearsome because she's a few years younger than I am."

They shared a laugh. Anna thought they rather complemented each other. When the silence prevailed once more, she turned to face him, leaning coyly against the door.

"Goodnight then, Mr. Bates," she said. "I'd better go before we get caught lingering here."

"Yes, you should," he agreed. "It sounds as if you'd be in enough trouble without adding even more."

She giggled again, then bit her lip as she gazed upon the sight of him. His gaze on her was warm and friendly. He was still smiling. There really was something rather special about the way that it transformed his face.

On a whim, she stepped back towards him again. His expression melted into one of confusion as he watched her movements. Her heart was beating rather wildly in her chest. Why was she doing this? She didn't know. She wasn't sure she _wanted_ to know. When she reached him again, she rose up on her tiptoes. She hadn't realised how tall John Bates really was before now. Her hands braced themselves against his chest. Before he could even open his mouth in protest, she'd pressed hers against the cold skin of his cheek. For a moment, he was stiff in her arms, but then he relaxed, bringing his left hand up to cup against her elbow. Warmth erupted from the spot where he'd touched her, radiating out from her and heating every single part of her body. Her breath hitched as she pulled away from him. She was sure that she was blushing again, though the cool wind could once more be attested as an attribute.

"Goodnight," she murmured again, rather lamely.

"Goodnight," he echoed, voice rather faraway, rather dazed.

She didn't dare glance back as she stepped through the doorway that would lead her back up towards first class, but she didn't need to to know that his gaze was burning against her back, level and speculative and unreadable.

* * *

_This is not happening, Bates._

John stood rooted to the spot several minutes after Anna had slipped away from him, standing there as though he had been frozen by the bitter sea wind. His skin tingled where she had kissed him, warming him to his core despite the cold breeze. He was a mess of emotions. He didn't know what to think.

Where had that kiss come from? What was it supposed to mean?

_It's gone too far already._

The thought was a frightening one. He had not known Anna Smith more than two days. How could she possibly be feeling more for him already? Was _he_ feeling more for _her_ already?

_That's ridiculous. It can't possibly be true._

It couldn't be. Could it? Anna hadn't seemed to express any desires for anything but a sort of friendship with him. She hadn't been staring at him longingly or touching him inappropriately or driving him to the edge with the flirtatious flutterings of her eyelashes.

_Not like Vera had done._

He closed his eyes, scowling at the memory of his wife. He didn't need the thought of _her_ creeping up unbidden on him.

It was all perfectly fine. She had been extending friendship to him, he decided. Nothing more. A token of gratitude and a chaste kiss did not mean that she was falling head over heels for him. Besides, he was arrogant to even think that way. Anna was young and she was beautiful, he wasn't going to deny that. Any man would fall down at her feet. And who was to say that someone hadn't already fallen down at her feet, that she didn't have a young beau of her own waiting for her back in England? Besides knowing that she was a servant for a lord, he didn't know anything about her.

_It's fine, it's all fine. You're just overreacting._

Yes, overreacting because he hadn't had a woman in a long time. He was thankful that he had overcome his baser urges to simply use women for a night, but it seemed that his mind hadn't quite gotten over its tendency to overanalyse the signs, like it had done in the days when he had taken women home – or to the nearest alleyway – with him, when it had been of the utmost importance to gauge a woman's interest in him before taking things further.

In all realities, he probably wouldn't see Anna again anyway, at least not until the last day of their voyage. She hadn't said that she'd be returning, and he was sure that she would find it difficult to anyway, amongst the work that she had to get done for the family that she was serving. He was safe.

He tried not to think about how right and easy it had been to slip from calling her Miss Smith to her given name, how natural it felt rolling off his tongue. He and Anna, they were friends of sorts. And that was all that they'd ever be. God, he needed a cigarette. Fumbling in his pockets, John found the packet and withdrew it with shaky hands, working a cigarette free. Cradling it between two fingers, he fumbled for his matches and closed his eyes as he was about to light it. Anna's face was at the forefront of his mind as soon as he shut out the world, her nose wrinkled in distaste. The desire to smoke left him at once. It was a habit that Anna didn't like. He really shouldn't.

_Christ, Bates, listen to yourself. Do what the hell you want. Stop being so bloody stupid._

It was scary, not wanting to smoke because she didn't like it. She wasn't here. What could she do? She had even told him to finish his cigarette earlier.

More to prove to himself that he could still do it rather than filled with the desire to anymore, John lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips. There, he could still do it. What did it matter that he wasn't enjoying the taste of it like he usually did? He inhaled again, more deeply this time. His nerves weren't settling right now, but they would soon. Very soon.

Everything was fine.

But a small part of him couldn't shake the feeling that this was very dangerous indeed.

* * *

It didn't take her long at all to navigate her way back up to first class, dodging stewards here and there. She did all of this mechanically, her mind not focusing on what she was doing. How could it when it was filled with thoughts of Mr. Bates?

Had she really just done that? It was the question that burned at the forefront of her mind. Had she really just done something as foolish as kissing a man on his cheek, a man that she hadn't even known forty-eight hours earlier? Her cheeks flared redder than ever as she thought about the way that he had smelled – of smoke and sweat and salty air – and the feel of his soft skin against her lips. She had to stop that train of thought. It was getting too dangerous.

_He's a friend,_ she told herself firmly. _An acquaintance and nothing more._

It was her inexperience that was making her feel a little strange. She had never spent any time around men. Back at Downton, all of the lads were younger than she was, and she saw them all as brothers rather than anything else. She rarely had time off to go down to the village, and she didn't really find any of the young men there that attractive anyway. In the house, the only men older than her were Mr. Carson and his lordship, and neither of them had any appeal for her. So actually spending time with a man who wasn't constantly preoccupied with the chores of the day or boys that were too busy being silly to be remotely interesting had been a welcome change for her, a more mature, exciting and witty conversationalist. She liked him. Of course she did. But that was all it was. A friendly liking.

Glad that she had cleared that up with herself, she set about opening the door that led to first class. With an added spring in her step, she bounded up the stairs and emerged at the top, among the bright stars. They twinkled happily in the night sky, reflecting her mood. Grinning to herself, Anna turned around to shut the door behind her. Now all she had to do was get back to her own room and back into her work clothes, erasing all traces of her jaunt below deck.

And then the warm fuzz in her veins cooled to icy horror as the smug, triumphant voice behind her drawled, "well well, if it isn't Anna. And just what have you been up to?"

It was as if time had stopped. Slowly, feeling as though leaden weights had been tied around her wrists and ankles, Anna turned towards the source of the voice.

Miss O'Brien was standing directly behind her, a victorious, terrible smirk on her face.

* * *

**A/N:** And that's that. Hopefully the next update will be with you in February.


	5. Discoveries

**A/N:** I struggled so much with this chapter._  
_

I knew I had to start advancing the plot along because there are only four days between the ship setting sail and the ship sinking, so Anna and John have less time to get to know each other and form a bond, unlike in the show. So Anna needed to start finding things out fairly quickly, I guess. But I'm not sure how well I did with this chapter in terms of having all of the characters together in a room, with most of it being quite dialogue-heavy. Hopefully it's not too much of a disappointment to you guys.

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Kat** – Oh, thank you very much! :) It's nice to know that you think I got the balance right! Usually, I struggle with that (probably leaning more towards the latter, I guess). Let's hope I can maintain it! :) Thank you very much for reviewing!

* * *

_5. Discoveries_

_Friday 12__th__ April, 1912, 08:00_

"You're quiet this morning, Anna," Lady Mary commented as the maid buttoned up the back of her dress. "Are you quite sure that you're all right?"

It was unusual for Lady Mary to take much notice of her unless she was in a particularly graceful mood, and Anna's hands faltered for a moment.

"I'm fine, milady," she said, hoping that her voice was steady enough.

"Are you sure? You're looking a little tired this morning, I must say."

"I suppose I'm still getting used to the differences between living on land and living on the sea."

She was honoured with a low, cultured laugh. "I must say that I agree with you there. I wish Papa hadn't been persuaded into booking this trip. I'd much rather be back at Downton."

Anna made a non-committal noise as she crossed the room to fetch Lady Mary's shoes. She had no doubt that she probably _was_ looking tired. She had not slept a wink all last night. And while her thoughts had been preoccupied by Mr. Bates, they had been more worrisome than they had been the previous night.

Because all she'd been able to think about was Miss O'Brien's horribly wicked smirk as she'd caught her red-handed by the door that led into second class. The lady's maid had made it quite clear to her when she'd returned to the room that they were sharing that she was not going to tolerate such poor behaviour from a simple housemaid who had gotten above her station by being asked on this trip, and that the family would certainly be most interested to learn about her night-time escapades below decks with people who would bring the house of Grantham down if word ever got out. The Granthams, she'd said triumphantly, would be disgusted to learn of what she'd been up to. And just what was that, exactly? Secret rendezvouses with bawdy men? Surely it had to be something unsavoury if it was being kept a secret?

Anna had bitten her tongue and kept silent. She wasn't about to rise to Miss O'Brien's bait, and she was determined to reveal absolutely nothing to her. If the lady's maid wanted to reveal all to Lady Grantham, then so be it. But even so, she had been unable to sleep all night, tossing and turning as subtly as she could manage, her mind conjuring up all manner of outcomes to such a scenario. The odious woman hadn't said a thing to her all morning, but the nasty smirk on her face had promised trouble. Anna was ready for it, though it wasn't stopping her stomach from tying itself in knots.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Anna's heart leapt into her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe. She was suddenly aware of the fact that her palms were sweating.

"Hello?" The accent was thick and sing-song. And American. Lady Grantham.

Anna tried not to let her expression show too much disquiet as the countess let herself into the room. She wasn't smiling, but her eyes were kind. Surely that was a good sign? At least it couldn't mean that she was being sacked on the spot.

"Mama," Lady Mary said, rolling her eyes a little. "Are you coming to check up on me already? You said that we wouldn't be dining at breakfast until eight thirty. I'm not going to be late."

"No, I haven't come to see you," said Lady Grantham, and Anna's worst fears were confirmed. "I'm actually here to see Anna."

"Me, milady?" she said in as level a voice as she could manage, hoping that she didn't sound too guilty.

"Yes." She still didn't sound too angry, though Anna fancied that she could detect an air of weariness to her words. "You see, this morning O'Brien told me some frankly quite surprising things. And I really think that his lordship and I should speak with you about them. When we've breakfasted, will you please come to his lordship's rooms?"

"Why?" Lady Mary interrupted. "What's Anna done?"

"Never mind," Lady Grantham said dismissively. "So, will you be there, Anna?"

Like she had a choice in the matter. "Of course I will, your ladyship."

She nodded. "Very good. I'll see you shortly."

As soon as she was gone, Lady Mary turned back to her. "Anna, what have you done?"

"I'm quite sure I don't know," she replied as evenly as she could, though inside her heart was pounding.

Lady Mary rolled her eyes. "Of course you know."

Anna pursed her lips thinly. "Well, perhaps I do. But I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

"Oh, I will," she announced. "Because I fully intend to be there when Mama speaks to you."

Typical Lady Mary.

No more was exchanged as she finished dressing the woman for breakfast. Typically, the servants ate after their families had been dispatched to breakfast here on the _Titanic_, unlike what Anna was used to at Downton. By this time, she should have been starving. But now her stomach was coiling itself in knots, and she felt too sick to eat. Instead, she decided to go back to her room. She wouldn't be able to stomach Miss O'Brien and Thomas' smug faces even if she _did _have an appetite.

Once back in her room, she sank down onto the edge of her bed. What would she do if the Granthams decided to take action against her and disposed of her services? They wouldn't be able to until she got back to England, of course, but it still wasn't a very comforting notion. Even if she had several weeks' notice to make plans with, she couldn't really see what she'd do. Even if she managed to procure another position in a smaller house, it wouldn't be as desirable as working for the Granthams, who were renowned for showing kindness beyond the call of duty to their employees. Anna had heard her share of horror stories during her time as a maid, ranging from the horrifying tales of maids being set upon by their masters to the ones who lived in such poor conditions that it was a wonder anyone stayed on. Her parents would be furious with her if she lost her job. They had bragged about her spotless record, and it had certainly helped to get her the job. They would be devastated if she had to return home when their little farm was only just doing above adequately well.

And yet, even if the worst did happen, she would never be able to blame Mr. Bates for the way that things turned out. _She_ had been the one who had broken the rules by choosing to explore in places where she was not allowed. _She_ had been the one to tempt fate by returning. _She_ would face the consequences of her actions. And she would be sure to keep quiet about them. She didn't know much about Mr. Bates, but she had a feeling that he wouldn't be the kind of man who would allow her to take the blame for something like that, even if it was her fault.

* * *

_09.30_

Breakfast passed too quickly, and before she knew it, Anna was standing back up again. Thankfully, Miss O'Brien hadn't put in another appearance. Anna wasn't sure how she would have faced her. If the meeting with the Granthams went badly, then it would be torture for the rest of the trip, but until that happened, she could still keep her pride intact.

When she arrived back at the Granthams' quarters, she took a moment to compose herself outside. She needed to look as calm and collected as possible. Any whiff of guilt, and it probably wouldn't be the best way of protesting her innocence. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

"Come in," Lady Grantham called, her voice muffled. She still didn't sound angry. That surely had to be a good sign.

Anna did as she was told, opening the door and stepping over the threshold. The Granthams' quarters were absolutely breath taking. A wonderful view of the sea. Gorgeous paintings. A soft bedspread. In other circumstances, Anna would have loved to have taken more time to soak everything up – being Lady Mary's temporary lady's maid meant that she wasn't the one who bothered cleaning the rooms – but there were more pressing matters at hand. She turned her attention back to the occupant of the room.

And her heart sank.

As she'd stated, Lady Mary was sitting in the corner of the room, her dark eyes flickering with interest behind an unreadable mask. And Lord Grantham was standing by the window, peering out at the view. Lady Grantham was eyeing her expectantly, her blue eyes curious. And Thomas and Miss O'Brien were both present, standing there together, barely keeping the glee from their expressions.

_Just what on earth were they doing here?_

Anna's heart had dropped into her stomach at the sight of them, but she tried not to let them bother her as she kept her attention trained on her ladyship. The countess continued to smile at her – it _had_ to be a good sign, Anna reassured herself – and gestured for her to come in properly and close the door. She complied. There was silence for a few moments before Lady Grantham cleared her throat.

"Now, Anna," she said, and her tone was kind. "As you know, I was speaking to O'Brien this morning, and she expressed some concern for you."

Concern. Miss O'Brien had never been concerned about anyone in her whole life, as far as Anna could tell. Still, she held her tongue, answering with a neutral, _"Oh?"_ It was the best way of getting through this unscathed, she thought.

Lady Grantham nodded encouragingly. "Yes. In fact, she was really rather worried to catch you coming back through the door to first class. She was under the impression that you'd been slipping away to places that aren't really safe for you. Isn't that right, O'Brien?"

"It is, milady," said the lady's maid, and now her expression was positively gleeful. "I felt that it was only right to bring it to your attention…just in case Anna was to get hurt."

"That's ridiculous!" Lady Mary exclaimed then, looking disdainful. "Anna isn't the sort of person to be so stupid."

Anna flushed, but she didn't feel as embarrassed as she should have done. After all, for all of their rapport, Lady Mary didn't really know her.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," Lady Grantham said kindly. "But I would like to hear about what you were doing from your perspective."

At least they were giving her a fair chance to explain herself. Still, she wasn't comfortable speaking about it in front of Thomas and Miss O'Brien. They only wanted to be there so that they could be privy to her humiliation first hand.

Thankfully, Lord Grantham, usually someone who could be relied upon to sense when someone was uncomfortable, spoke up then. "Perhaps it would be better if Thomas and O'Brien left. O'Brien's had her say in private, and I think that it's only fair that Anna is given the same opportunity."

Thomas and O'Brien's faces dropped at that, and Anna couldn't help but feel a rather uncharitable stab of triumph.

Lady Grantham smiled and nodded. "Yes, perhaps that would be best."

At this, the two servants knew that they couldn't argue, and slunk out of the room with backward glances that were part-curious, part-contemptuous. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Anna felt an immense wave of relief wash over her. Already she felt much more comfortable about the whole situation, even if she still didn't know what their reaction would be to her sneaking around in places that were forbidden to her.

"Honestly, Mama," said Mary as soon as the door had clicked shut behind the pair. "I don't even know why you're wasting our time on something like this. Anna is clearly not guilty of anything."

"But O'Brien said that she was wearing her best Sunday clothes," said Lady Grantham. "Surely there must be some truth in it?"

Anna was used to being invisible when it came to the family. As a servant, she was meant to blend into the background and keep her mouth closed about personal affairs that were discussed when she was in the room. However, it was a little more uncomfortable when she herself was the topic of conversation. She shuffled nervously. Normally, she wouldn't dream of interrupting the family while they were speaking, but she felt that it would be justified in this case. She didn't want them to get carried away with the details of what was or wasn't true.

"I'm afraid what Miss O'Brien told you was true, milady," she said quietly, breaking her silence. "Miss O'Brien _did_ catch me by the door that leads to second class. And I was…I _was_ wearing my best Sunday dress. But I can assure you that the reasons why aren't as bad as what Miss O'Brien probably thinks."

The Granthams had been shocked into silence by her speech. Lady Mary's eyes were dark and watchful and surprised, evidently not expecting any of it to be true. Lord Grantham's eyebrows had risen in question. Lady Grantham looked questioning. Evidently none of them had truly been expecting her to admit it all so openly.

"I think you should explain everything from the beginning, Anna," she said quietly.

Anna nodded meekly. Her heart was beginning to pound sickeningly again. "Well, there isn't too much to tell. I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, but this trip is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me, milady, and I was so excited by the exhilaration of it all that I let myself get carried away. I brought my best Sunday dress with me just in case any spare time arose in America, but when I'd finished tending to Lady Mary the first night before dinner, I couldn't resist taking a look around. And then…then I was overcome by the silly urge of exploring further. And I know it was wrong of me to do so, milady, but I did it anyway. I got changed and I went down into third class."

Lady Mary inhaled sharply at that, and Lady Grantham winced. Evidently, her antics were worse than they'd imagined.

"Third class?" said Lord Grantham, as though he was trying to wrap his head around such an absurd notion. "But why?"

Anna flushed. She couldn't very well tell him that it was because she felt more at home there. "I don't know, milord. I wasn't thinking properly. But I did. And then I got a little lost down there, and I was running late –"

"So _that's _why you were all flustered!" said Lady Mary accusingly. "You'd been gallivanting around below deck! Really, Anna, how could you be so reckless?"

Lady Grantham shushed her daughter, turning back to Anna. "Anna, I really must say that I don't like where this story is going."

"It's nothing terrible," Anna said hurriedly. "Honestly, milady. I just got lost and a gentleman was kind enough to help me find the way back to here. That's why I was late the first day."

"But O'Brien didn't mention anything about Wednesday night. She said that she caught you yesterday."

Anna could feel the tips of her ears reddening. It was times like this when she wished she could wear a proper hat to mask her flush. "Well, yes, she did. I was…touched by the kindness that the gentleman had showed me on Wednesday…so yesterday I went back to see if I could find him again to say thank you. And I did."

"You went all the way back down to third class just to say thank you to a fellow who had helped you?" asked Lord Grantham. He sounded torn between horror and reluctant amusement.

"Yes, milord," confirmed Anna, feeling the blush spread to her cheeks.

"You went back to third class…to see a man…_alone_?" Lady Mary sounded scandalised, and Anna was a little affronted. Lady Mary wasn't known for being perfect.

"But I've told you, milady, it wasn't like that. He's a friend, nothing more."

"But what would you have done if he'd decided that he'd like you as more than a friend?" Lady Mary demanded.

"It wasn't like that," Anna insisted. "Truly, milady." She thought it best not to mention that she'd been the centre of attention for the drunks who he'd been sitting with.

"And then what happened?" asked Lady Grantham.

Anna shrugged self-consciously, twisting her hands together. "Not much. We talked a little, and then I came back here to attend to Lady Mary. And that was when Miss O'Brien found me."

"And…were you intending to see this man again?"

Anna was sure the blush was visible now. But she couldn't lie. She'd always lived by the belief that people regretted lying more often than they regretted telling the truth, and it wouldn't help her case if she was ever caught again. "Well…yes, I was. I wasn't sure when, but he was nice, and I enjoyed his company."

Lady Mary made a scathing sound in the back of her throat. Lady Grantham fixed her with a penetrating stare.

"I believe you when you say that it was all innocent," she said. "And I'm very glad that he was a nice gentleman. But I really cannot allow you to continue going below deck. Your welfare is important to us while you work for us, and it would be scandalous if people realised that you were a young woman spending her spare time alone with a man while on board here. Gossip can be cruel."

Anna's heart had sunk right into the pit of her stomach at Lady Grantham's words. This was it. She'd been stopped. Her friendship with Mr. Bates was over before it had ever really begun. She'd spend the rest of the journey in a state of never-ending boredom. Why should she feel ashamed of her actions? She'd – _they'd_ – done nothing wrong. This wasn't an illicit love affair. But what choice did she have but to accept it?

"Yes, milady," she said. "I understand."

"You're a hard worker, Anna," Lady Grantham continued. "I don't want to punish you because I know that you meant no harm with any of it, and while it wasn't the best thing for you to do, I know you wouldn't mean for our family name to become tarnished."

"Of course not," she said quickly. "But I'm afraid that there's just a slight problem."

"Oh?" It was Lady Mary who spoke up, disdain positively dripping from that one word.

Anna chose to ignore her, keeping her attention trained on Lady Grantham. "The thing is, I promised Mr. Bates that I'd see him again. And now if I suddenly don't turn up again, he's going to wonder why I don't. And I do need to see him again, just because I –"

"Wait a moment," interrupted Lord Grantham then. Anna had noticed that he'd been letting his attention waver for the last few minutes, but now his eyes were focused almost disconcertingly on her. "Did you say Bates?"

"Yes," said Anna uncertainly. "John Bates."

Now his lordship's eyes were gleaming. "No, that's impossible!"

Anna furrowed her brow. She didn't understand the sudden shift in his lordship. What was wrong? She didn't know much, but she was certain that John Bates wasn't an uncommon name.

But there was still that feverish air about him. "This man, this John Bates…what's he like?"

"Milord?" Now she was more confused than ever. Lady Grantham and Lady Mary evidently didn't understand either, for they were staring at his lordship with the same quizzical expression.

"I'm sure it's all quite impossible, but if there's the slightest chance that it's true…"

"That what's true?" asked Lady Mary. "Honestly, Papa…"

Lord Grantham shook himself, then cleared his throat. "A very long time ago, when you were still very young, I fought in the Boer War. My batman was a man called John Bates."

"So?" said Lady Mary, even as Anna's felt her heart beginning to pound in her chest. No, this was too incredible for words. There was no way that any of this could be possible…

"John Bates is the reason that I'm alive," continued Lord Grantham, turning to look at his wife meaningfully. "I don't like to talk about those days. But John Bates came back to save me when we were ambushed. He was shot and had to be sent back home. I haven't seen him since then, but I owe my life to John Bates."

A cold sweat had broken out on Anna's forehead. When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was high and tremulous. "Where was he shot, milord?"

"The leg. I believe that he was lucky not to lose it."

Anna inhaled shakily. "I think…I think it might really be him, milord."

"Good God in Heaven! Truly?"

"Mr. Bates limps. He didn't tell me why, but he relies on his cane."

"A cane? Bates never needed one before."

"But I'm sure it's him, milord. It's too much of a coincidence for it not to be."

"Why should this make any difference?" enquired Lady Grantham.

"My dear, the man who saved my life is aboard this ship. Now that I know he's here, wouldn't it be rude of me not to acknowledge him?"

"He doesn't know you're here, does he?"

"No, milady," Anna supplied. "I told him that I worked in service, but I never said who with, and he never asked."

"This is extraordinary. I simply must see him again."

"And how do you propose to do that? Are you going to go gallivanting around below deck too?" Lady Mary asked sarcastically. Anna thought that her tone was uncalled for. It was overwhelming to think that Mr. Bates was some kind of war hero – saving the _life_ of an earl without thinking about himself – and she'd thought that Lady Mary would be grateful to hear about the man who had saved her papa. But apparently that was too charitable for the eldest daughter. Something foreign welled up inside her at the thought of him charging back into the fray, of lying there in pain as his leg collapsed underneath him. She wanted to know more about it. And she wanted to hear it from his lips, to know the whole story as she sat by his side and listened to the solemn tone of his voice.

Lord Grantham glanced to Anna. "Well, Anna knows who he is. She can meet him. And then she can invite him up here."

Lady Mary's eyes widened. "That's even more ridiculous! A man from third class meeting an earl in first? Utterly preposterous!"

Anna felt a stab of indignity at such a comment – her own social status was no better than Mr. Bates', after all, and Lady Mary was being even more insulting than usual – but she kept quiet as Lord Grantham spoke again.

"The first class church is open to all members of society on a Sunday morning," he said, sounding more enthusiastic than Anna had heard for a while. "Anna can go down and invite him up here on Sunday, and then I can meet him properly."

"But is it wise?" Lady Grantham asked worriedly. "We don't want Anna attracting too much attention, and asking him to join you up here on Sunday is sure to make people talk."

"And what would they talk about?" Lord Grantham asked determinedly. "The fact that I would be conversing with someone of a lower station than I? Then I'd set them straight and tell the truth. Bates should be respected."

Hearing Lord Grantham speak in such a way reminded Anna of why she liked and appreciated her employer. "So, should I be the one to ask him, milord?" Her heart lurched at the thought. She tried to imagine the look on his face as she revealed it all to him. Even though she hadn't known him long, she had noticed that he looked terribly melancholy sometimes, as if he had the weight of the world crushing the air from his lungs and bowing his spine. Would this be enough to drive the melancholy from his spirit? She liked the idea of him smiling widely at her after she'd conveyed the news. It made her stomach flutter and warm pleasantly.

"Yes, it would be for the best," said Lord Grantham, before he began shaking his head in disbelief. "I really can't believe this. To be here, of all places! Good God, that can only mean one thing. But why has he chosen to move to America? It's just too extraordinary for any words! To upend his whole life like this, and his family's too…"

The final statement threw Anna a little off-kilter. What…? A family? Her stomach lurched sickeningly. No, his lordship had to be mistaken…

"What do you mean, milord?" she asked, and her voice was shakier than she had ever heard it. Lady Mary was looking at her with eyebrows that had disappeared into her hairline, but Anna chose to ignore her. Her mouth was dry, and her throat seared when she swallowed. In the space of a few seconds, she felt as if her whole world had turned itself upside down.

Lord Grantham looked at her in confusion, as if he wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. She was serious. Deadly serious. Her heart was doing a nauseating quickstep in her chest. Her ears were ringing. She felt strange, as if she was viewing the scene from outside her body.

_A_ family…

"I just meant that it must have taken something momentous for Bates to make a decision like this," said Lord Grantham, as though she was being simple. "He'll be heading for a whole new world of uncertainty, and he will have a great responsibility to his wife and his children."

It was at that moment, with the confirmation ringing in her ears, that Anna's world began to crash down around her, and she wasn't even sure why. The air left the room. The colour drained from her cheeks. She felt dizzy, light-headed, and she shook her head in a desperate attempt to rid it of the awful buzzing that had taken up residence there.

"Anna?" Lady Mary's voice sounded distant. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, milady," she heard herself answering from a distance. "I'm fine."

Still, her brain wasn't registering the revelation. It _couldn't_. Mr. Bates, with a wife, with _children_…

Lord Grantham was speaking again. She forced herself to listen, though she could barely focus on the words.

"Will you extend the invitation to the rest of his family too?" he asked. "I would hate for them to feel excluded."

No, no. This wasn't something that she could do anymore. She couldn't go down there and face him again, couldn't look him in the face, not when he had a wife and children. And she wouldn't be able to meet them up here on Sunday, a smiling, laughing, awe-struck unit filled with hope for the future. She wasn't sure how old his children would be – Mr. Bates was probably around the same age that his lordship was, so it wouldn't be unfeasible that his children were the same ages as Lady Mary. Strong young men who were the image of their father. Beautiful young women who resembled their mother. His _wife_.

_And why can't you face him again?_ a nasty voice in the back of her mind asked.

Because she'd been making a fool of herself. She'd been following him and offering him tokens of friendship, and everyone else had mistaken her intentions and laughed at her. No wonder the men who he'd been sitting with had leered and jeered at her. They'd obviously been thinking that Mr. Bates was having his way with his wife and then the pretty, unsuspecting girl who had wandered into his clutches. And he hadn't even thought to _mention_ them to her, this family, had allowed her to make a fool of herself, and she'd even started to think that…

_Think what, Anna?_

No, she wouldn't think like that. She _wasn't_ thinking like that.

"Of course I will," she said distantly. "I'll tell Mr. Bates that his whole family is welcome."

Lady Grantham was disapproving, she could tell. Anna hoped that she would open her mouth and object again, but she didn't, merely turning away with an exasperated sigh, and that made it quite clear that the conversation was over.

"I think perhaps you should go and lie down for a few minutes," said Lady Mary, and Anna was grateful for the fact that for once in her life, the eldest daughter of the house seemed to actually care about her wellbeing above appearance. "Have you finished everything that I need you to do?"

"Yes, milady," she said faintly.

"That's good. Rest until I need to change for luncheon."

It was too hard to nod her head, but she did so anyway. Her neck felt like lead.

"And you'll go down tonight to find Bates?" Lord Grantham enquired.

What could she say? She wanted to say no, to say that she'd changed her mind, that she'd been mistaken all along and it surely couldn't be the same person as who Lord Grantham believed…

"Yes, milord," she answered, feeling a knot of dread tighten itself in her stomach. "I'll do it while you're dining at dinner tonight."

"Splendid," he smiled. "You may go now, Anna."

She turned dreamily. Each step that she took towards the door felt like a weight of iron, as though she was being dragged into the icy depths of the water beneath her feet. The end of their conversation echoed with each step she took.

_Married._

_Wife._

_Children._

_Family._

She'd been deceived, shown to be a truly foolish little girl. There was no such thing as friendship between men and women. The other men had been right. Mr. Bates could only truly be interested in one thing. Men did it every day of their lives. They left their wives and their children and slipped into the beds of other women, lowering their defences with sickly words and unfulfilled promises, getting exactly what they wanted.

_But he clearly misjudged you. You would never have given him that. Never. It was friendship you wanted._

She'd thought that that was what he'd wanted too.

_Men are slippery devils,_ her mother had warned her years before, when she'd been accepted at Downton Abbey._ Don't you ever forget that, Anna. They promise you whatever you want, and then they take it all away from you when you've given them what _they_ want. You be on your guard._

She always had been. When Toby, one of the hall boys, had promised her a new hat in exchange for a kiss, she'd scoffed and turned away. She'd had fancies for some of the young lads who had worked on the farms before she'd left home, but she'd been quick with her palm when they'd tried to advance things along too quickly.

_You've let your guard down with Mr. Bates, _that nasty little voice gloated. _Much more than you care to admit._

She shook her head desperately. No, she hadn't. She _hadn't_.

_The kiss_, the voice continued silkily. _You gave him a kiss, didn't you?_

A kiss on the cheek. It meant nothing. And it wasn't to be misinterpreted, by herself, by anyone.

It didn't matter anyway. Because once tonight was over, once she had been down into third class and delivered Lord Grantham's message to him, she would never see him again. She would ask for her charm back and she would take it and she would never look back again.

Friendship with men was a dangerous thing. Especially with married men with families.

Anna would never make the same mistake again.

* * *

**A/N:** Originally, this chapter did have Anna's meeting with John in it. However, all together it would have been almost 10,000 words, so I decided to cut it here. I'm fairly busy with other projects over the next month anyway so, selfishly, it will mean that I can still update in a month without actually having to write the chapter from scratch. :P

This chapter really is a worry to me, so it would be great to hear your views, whatever they may be.


	6. Confrontation

**A/N:** So here's the rest of the previous chapter. Hopefully it doesn't disappoint, and that Anna and John's interactions are all right.

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

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_6. Confrontation_

_20:30_

It was time.

Anna stood before the door that led below deck, a steward on one side of her, Lord Grantham on the other. His lordship was explaining the situation to the steward, who looked torn between telling him that he couldn't jolly well do what he wanted, even if he was an earl, and curling up in a ball under that patronising gaze of superiority. Anna didn't add anything to the conversation, merely standing there as if she was a part of the scenery. She had nothing to say, anyway.

The afternoon had passed slowly, and yet far too quickly for her liking. She had been permitted to lie down for a while, and while this was a luxury that had never been rewarded to her in the past, she found that this only made things worse. At least if she had work to do, her mind was too busy focusing on the task at hand to think about trivial matters. But, lying on top of her bed with her corset loosened and her dress unbuttoned, the facts – both confirmed and drawn up by herself – swirled incessantly in her head, almost driving her mad. She couldn't bear the thought of trying to sleep, because whenever she closed her eyes, the image of Mr. Bates and a shadowy woman appeared behind her lids. Sometimes they were holding hands and sometimes she imagined them doing _more_, and she didn't even know why she was, or why the thought of any of it made her feel sick to the stomach, and in the end it was so torturous that she resolved to simply sitting up and pressing her hands over her eyes, blocking it all out. And there were the images of the children (who were surely young adults now), perfect copies of their parents, mocking her with their existence, and then Mr. Bates himself sitting there all smug in the knowledge that he had fooled her. At one time, she had felt her eyes filling with tears, but she had resolutely blinked them away, because she wasn't going to start crying over something as ridiculous as this situation. She was stronger than that.

Miss O'Brien, of course, had been in an absolutely foul mood. Anna hadn't been able to avoid her, much to her dismay, because both she and Thomas had been lingering around outside when she'd emerged from the Granthams' suite that morning. Evidently, they had not been able to hear anything, for their faces wore their usual contemptible expressions, and they hadn't made any snide remarks other than to say that they hoped that she'd been suitably punished for getting ideas grander than she was, but later that afternoon, when Miss O'Brien had returned to their shared room, there had been a fire in her eyes that would have put the Devil's to shame.

"_So her ladyship tells me that you've been having secret trysts below deck with a married man,"_ she'd hissed cruelly. _"My, my, Anna. You ought to be careful. People will begin to talk."_

She hadn't bothered gracing her with a reply, which had obviously irritated her even more, because then she'd started raging about how ridiculous it was that she hadn't been thrown out on her ear – if _she_ was Countess of Grantham, she wouldn't want such loose-moraled woman working for her.

"_If you were Countess of Grantham, you wouldn't get _anyone_ working for you," _Anna had shot back, which had caused an outburst on how disgusting it was that she was being treated like royalty, what with the time off and the permission to return below deck. Anna would have gladly have had all of Miss O'Brien's work on top of her own if it meant that she didn't have to seek out Mr. Bates ever again.

But there had been no excuse on earth that she could have come up with that would have been acceptable enough to put Lord Grantham off. The constant stares from Lady Mary that had resulted in her dropping things all night had not been remarked upon, and her nervous expression had seemingly been of little importance. She supposed that she could have tried to have postponed the inevitable for longer by waiting until she'd had her dinner, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to touch a bite anyway, so there was no point in simply sitting there and letting the anxieties eat away at her insides.

The guard eventually relented. It wasn't as if he had much choice in the matter. He couldn't really oppose an earl. So it was then that Anna slipped through the door with complete permission, seeking out the man who had caused her so much emotional turmoil in the space of twenty-four hours.

On the way, her stomach twisted itself in knots. She kept imagining what she would say to him, trying to phrase it right in her head. She tried to think of how she'd react if she came face-to-face with the very reason that she felt so much turmoil.

Her feet paused when she reached third class. Her stomach was protesting harder than ever – the butterflies that had taken residence there were kicking up a storm. She could always pretend that she'd been unable to complete her mission. Third class was a busy place – the busiest place on the entire ship, she guessed – and the crowds were thick at the best of times. Mr. Bates would be difficult to find within the throng. At least, if she chose not to look. Even though she didn't know him well (_even less than you'd originally thought,_ the voice piped up snidely), she had a feeling that she would find him in the bar again, surrounded by the leering drunks. But she didn't have to go to him. She could hover around here for an acceptable amount of time, then return to first class and state that, unfortunately, she had been unable to complete her mission. It would be a blessing to avoid him.

But what if Lord Grantham didn't let it rest? What if he insisted that she went back again tomorrow, because there was still time to catch him and extend the invitation? She couldn't very well keep returning and declaring that she'd been unable to find him when she'd managed to find him with perfect ease for two days in a row. More than that, she wanted her charm back. She wasn't going to let her fears stop her from claiming back what was hers.

With more bravado than she actually felt, she began to walk again, peering at passers-by on both sides of her as she walked, looking for the distinguished figure of Mr. Bates. She didn't see him anywhere along the deck, but that was probably because it was a cool evening. The wind was whipping up quite a storm, whistling angrily as it tore down the deck, smacking the faces of the people brave enough to be outside. Anna felt her cheeks reddening almost immediately as she walked down it, ducking her head to shelter herself from the brunt of the harsh breeze. She was thankful when she reached the other side, stumbling gratefully into the shelter of the inside corridor. She recognised this place at once. It was where she had stood with Mr. Bates just twenty-four hours ago. That meant that the bar area was nearby. She would check there. If he wasn't there, then she would give this up for the night and perhaps try again tomorrow.

Cautiously, she moved forward, peering into the room. Now that she was right here, her nerves were building up again. But she took a deep breath and steeled herself. She could do this.

The smoke was thick as she stepped inside, men taking advantage of the poor weather outside to smoke and socialise. She wrinkled her nose against the stench, intricately twined with that horrible odour of beer, trying her best to make out the hazy faces behind the smoke. Several men glowered at her again, sensing a foreign presence in their midst, while others leered drunkenly. Anna knew that she couldn't linger long staring at one person because he was more than likely going to get the wrong idea, so she moved on quickly, trying to ignore the drunken jeers and catcalls that followed her. Mr. Bates was nowhere in sight. She peered in all of the corners. Nothing. Twin feelings of relief and disappointment rose up inside her. Well, at least she wouldn't be lying when she told his lordship that she'd tried.

It was only when she began to turn away that she heard the voice calling her name.

"Anna? Anna!"

It felt as if the world had stopped turning as slowly, so very slowly, she forced herself to spin in the direction of the voice.

_Mr. Bates'_ voice.

Her eyes landed on him at once. He was standing up at one of the tables, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his gaze held hers. His brown eyes were warm and welcoming.

_Don't you let him fool you, Anna._

She couldn't very well avoid him now that he'd spoken, and even if she wanted to, she knew that it was defeating the whole point. Gathering her dignity as best as she could, she weaved her way over to him. He was sitting with that same group once more. They were all drunk again, and she could read the weariness in his face even from a distance. Yet again, he seemed to be the only member of the group who was sober.

"Look who it is," one of them exclaimed when she was close enough, squinting at her. "It's Bates' girl again."

"I'm not Mr. Bates' girl," she snapped before the man in question could open his mouth. The thought of it all made her sick. Was his wife waiting patiently for him in their cabin while the group seduced other women?

"Sounds like you're in the bad books," jeered one of the others.

Mr. Bates frowned, evidently feeling a little apprehensive as he looked at her. "Anna, is there something wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm quite sure," she bit out in reply.

His frown deepened. "It certainly doesn't seem like nothing."

"It's not important. I need to talk to you, that's all. I have a message for you."

"A message?" Now he looked perplexed. "From who?"

"I bet I know what it is," smirked one of the other men nastily. "You'd better go, Bates."

Mr. Bates looked at her questioningly. She jerked her head irritably, and he edged himself around the table. She turned and began to march away, and she heard him limping hurriedly behind her, his cane tapping rhythmically against the wooden floorboards. He didn't seem to know what to say, because he was silent. That didn't bother Anna. It gave her the chance to gather herself together, to prepare herself for what was to come. Her heart was beating a sickening drumroll against her ribcage, like a bird beating its frantic wings in an attempt to break free of its cage. She didn't speak as she led him out onto the deck. Mr. Bates didn't question her as she moved towards the railings. He seemed to understand that she didn't want to be overheard. Still, it brought her a bit of uncharitable satisfaction to see that he began to shiver almost immediately, though she did try to squash it. She wasn't petty like that, not like Miss O'Brien. They came to a stop together. The silence lingered on for a few beats while Anna tried to gather herself one last time.

"Anna?" Mr. Bates was the first to break it, shifting cautiously from foot to foot as he eyed her. "Has someone – have _I_ – upset you –"

She cut him off before he could say too much. This was going to be on her terms, not his. He owed her that much.

"I'm not here for myself," she said. "I'm here for someone else."

"But no one else knows me here except you," Mr. Bates frowned.

"You're wrong. Someone else does."

"But who?"

Mr. Bates' face was confused, and she didn't want to drag this out any longer. She just wanted it to be over.

"My employer knows you," she said.

"Your employer? Anna, I'm really not following you –"

If Lord Grantham hadn't revealed so much shattering information about the man in front of her that morning, then she would have taken great delight in teasing him, watching his face twist in boyish frustration as they laughed together over her cryptic statement. Now, she had no time for such frivolity.

"My employer is Lord Grantham," she said briskly. "He says the two of you are acquainted."

The silence that was left behind was the most stunned sort that she had ever witnessed. Mr. Bates' eyes were huge in his head. His mouth hung open. His throat worked. Whatever he had been expecting, Anna could tell that her statement had most definitely not been that. A myriad of emotions was flashing across his face, passing too quickly for her to read.

"Lord Grantham?" he managed at last. His voice was shaking.

"That's what I said. I take it you remember him?"

"Yes," he muttered. There was a pained fondness in his eyes, the kind of expression that was worn when recalling some bittersweet memories. Anna couldn't quite fathom it.

Not that she wanted to. She wasn't here to fathom anything.

"This is impossible," Mr. Bates murmured. "Utterly impossible." He was shaking his head, and when he raised a hand to his hair distractedly, she noticed that it was trembling. "I didn't know that he was here. But," his eyes widened again, "how does he know that _I'm_ here?"

She at least had to explain that to him. "He found out this morning. One of the other servants – Miss O'Brien – caught me last night. She told her ladyship this morning, and I had to speak to her about it. I mentioned your name, and Lord Grantham wanted to know more."

Mr. Bates winced, but said nothing. Anna assumed that he wanted her to continue. She would, but she would keep it as brief as possible.

"He was very interested when he mentioned that you'd been shot, and I said that you…limped." She felt a brief tug of empathy at the pained look in his eyes, but quickly stamped on it. "He was certain then that it must be you. And from your reaction, I take it that you _are_ that Mr. Bates."

"I am," he confirmed quietly. "We served in the African War together."

It was true. The whole thing was _true_.

"Lord Grantham said that you saved his life."

He shrugged, dropping his gaze. "I'd prefer not to talk about it, if you don't mind."

That was fine by her. She didn't want to talk about it either. She didn't want to know the horrific details of war. She didn't want to feel pity and sympathy for him. Not when he'd lied to her.

"That's all I came here to say," she said.

"What?" Mr. Bates lifted his gaze again.

"I'm a maid. Do you expect me to be allowed every evening off to come and see you in third class?" Perhaps her tone was a little snappish, and too harsh, but she told herself that he deserved it. He _did_, after deceiving her in such a way.

_And how has he deceived you, Anna? Really?_

_By not telling me the truth. I never would have let it get this far if he had._

_This far? What do you mean by that?_

She ignored the voices in her head as Mr. Bates opened his mouth to speak quickly.

"Of course not," he said. "Forgive me, I was being selfish. Of course your work comes first."

The self-depreciating side of him was disorientating. She shook it off. "And, like I said, I have a message for you. From his lordship."

"And what's that?"

"That he'd like for you to join him on Sunday for the church service in first class."

Mr. Bates' expression was one of agonised wonder. "This is unbelievable. Why would he want to see me again after all this time?"

Anna thought that that was a very silly question given the things that had evidently passed between them during their time at war. Still, it wasn't her place to enlighten him of the hows and the whys and everything else. She had her orders, and that was all she intended to follow.

"And in _first class?_" he continued, more to himself. "I can't make myself believe any of this."

"Well, it's all true," she said. "Do you think I'd lie to you?"

_Like you have done to me?_

"Anna, I know you're trustworthy," he smiled gently. "It's just a lot to take in. I never dreamt that our paths would cross again, and to have crossed them because of _you_…"

She opened her mouth to protest, wishing that they _hadn't _met again because of her, but he cut across her obliviously.

"…But I'm afraid I won't be attending the church service on Sunday."

This threw her momentarily, and while a great sense of relief washed over her at the fact that his refusal meant that she wouldn't have to come face to face with his family, she was duty-bound to follow it up.

"Why?" she asked.

He shrugged a little listlessly. "I'd just prefer it if I didn't. Give him my sincere thanks for making such a kind offer in the first place, but tell him that I'm otherwise engaged."

In a moment of sudden clarity, she understood just why he didn't want to make the journey up to first class. She knew that he was worried about the looks that he would receive and the way that the rest of Lord Grantham's family would perceive him. And, more than all that, she knew that he was worried about the way that Lord Grantham himself would look down on him, how his eyes would be full of pity as well as gratitude as he gave his thanks, and how his gaze would flicker to the cane that he relied upon to get him around.

"Very well then," she said briskly. "But the offer is there for both you and your family if you wish to take it." She began to turn away from him then. She didn't want to see the look on his face as she brought them up. A soft smile? A wince that she'd discovered his secret?

She didn't expect to feel his hand close around her wrist and hold her there as he stepped closer to her, eyes wide and confused. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Don't play coy with me, Mr. Bates," she snapped at him. "You should at least have the decency to tell me the truth now. I _know_."

"Then you clearly don't know anything, because I have no idea what you're talking about."

She bristled at his words and pulled her wrist away roughly. "So you're calling his lordship a liar?"

"No," he frowned, "but I'm not sure that he should make assumptions about my life."

She wasn't about to relent that easily. "So you're saying that it's not true? That you don't have a _wife_?"

He blanched at her words. She waited for him to deny it. Did she secretly _want_ him to? But the silence lingered on and on, and she realised that he wasn't going to deny it. It was all _true_. After an age, Mr. Bates opened his mouth to speak. No words would come. She gave a harsh laugh. He flinched at its bitterness.

"Thank you for confirming that, Mr. Bates," she said. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll be leaving."

"No, don't," he said, wincing at how desperate he sounded. "Please, Anna, it's not what it seems."

"Isn't it?" she said tersely. "I didn't think there were other ways of seeming when it involves marriage. So what was I supposed to be to you? Someone to soften up and have before you arrived in America? A bit of a distraction? Well, I'll tell you this now, Mr. Bates: I'm not that kind of woman, whatever your friends might think."

"They're not my friends," he said hurriedly, "and I certainly don't see you as any of that, Anna. You have to believe me. I cherish your friendship, and I would never dream of taking it further than that."

"It's very easy to speak the words, Mr. Bates."

"You believed me yesterday! My feelings have not altered in the slightest. You're a good, kind woman, Anna. You deserve more than that."

"Yes, I do," she said slowly. "And I'm sorry, Mr. Bates, but I'm afraid I can't continue on now knowing that you have a family. It would be wrong of me, and it would be wrong of you."

"But why does anything need to change? I told you, it's not as it seems, and even then, I'm glad of our friendship, truly –"

"I don't like being lied to, Mr. Bates. My mother has always brought me up to be honest, and I like it from other people. I trusted you, and you lied to me. And I'm afraid that I can't do this anymore."

"But –"

"No," she interrupted him. "I won't listen anymore. I _can't_. If my friendship meant anything to you, then you should have told me the truth from the start. Now, I really must go. Please don't expect me to come down here again. I've fulfilled my duty tonight, and that's it."

"Anna," he said softly. His tone was painful, and it tugged on her heartstrings, even as she glared at him. Still, she had to be strong.

"Have you my charm?" she asked. "It would make sense for me to receive it now while I'm still here."

For a moment she thought that he was going to refuse, or say that he'd left it in his room so that she would have to come back again, but after a brief moment of staring, he slowly slid his hand inside his jacket pocket. Her heart momentarily lurched at the fact that he was carrying it about so closely to his person, but that was quickly dashed when she remembered that it made perfect sense; his wife would surely ask questions if he left it lying about casually.

Mr. Bates slowly extended his hand towards her, opening his palm hesitantly. Anna hesitated for a moment too, then reached out to take it. Their fingers inadvertently brushed as she curled her own around her charm, and she jerked back hastily, withdrawing her hand and turned away from him, stuffing the charm unceremoniously into her pocket. She didn't speak another word as she began to walk away, and neither did he.

Even without turning around, she knew that he'd be standing there, the wind whipping his hair, his shoulders hunched, his expression forlorn, his eyes burning into her as he let her walk away without trying to stop her.

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**A/N:** It was really difficult to write John's reaction to the news. Hopefully it was believable enough.

Unfortunately, due to university, I will be unable to update this next month. I just know that I won't have the time to fit in much fanfiction writing around the four or five pieces of coursework that I have to get done for May. I will try to update at some point in May after I've had my exams, and then I'll try to work harder to get a couple of chapters a month up to make up for it. :)


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